


Bent, but not broken

by forgotten knight gutter trash (unmended), unmended



Series: If I could do it all over again, I would find you sooner [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blatant misuse of in-game abilities, Canon-Typical Violence, Dark Knight Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Developing Relationship, Estinien Wyrmblood Needs a Hug, Everyone Needs A Hug, Explicit Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Final Fantasy XIV: Heavensward Spoilers, First Aid, Healing, Idiots in Love, M/M, Male Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Masturbation, Miqo'te Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Named Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Oral Sex, Overstimulation, References to self-loathing, Service Top Aymeric, Threesome - M/M/M, blatant misuse of in-game dialogue, mostly canon-compliant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:22:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 34,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28494564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unmended/pseuds/forgotten%20knight%20gutter%20trash, https://archiveofourown.org/users/unmended/pseuds/unmended
Summary: J’mhazi stirs, and makes a quiet noise of protest.“I’m sorry to wake you, but I’d like to see you tended to and resting in a bed before the evening, I should think. I’ve called for Master Alphinaud to come and assist in getting you back to Manor Foretemps.”Blearily, J’mhazi turns his head to the side and exhales in a huff through his nose.“..Mm, want to stay with you.” He hums quietly.And if that doesn’t cut into the heart of him. Aymeric takes a hand in both of his.“J’mhazi, I-““Mhazi.” The man in question interrupts, opening his eyes and blinking to clear them. “You can call me Mhazi.”
Relationships: Aymeric de Borel/Estinien Wyrmblood, Aymeric de Borel/Warrior of Light/Estinien Wyrmblood, Warrior of Light/Estinien Wyrmblood
Series: If I could do it all over again, I would find you sooner [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2087253
Comments: 20
Kudos: 58





	1. Willing

**Author's Note:**

> The first chapter has some allusions to what can be read as depression, and attempted self harm (via another party). Have care! 
> 
> Mhazi is a bit of a mess, and an idiot, but so are the other two so it works out I think. His primary Job is DRK, but he mained WAR and DRG before then.
> 
> I've been poking at this for weeks, because it wouldn't leave my head alone, cursed by ishgard elves as i am, so please enjoy while i deposit myself into the dumpster. Happy new year!  
> Turns out I had more to write here, so instead of sectioning this off into a new work i'm just going to add new chapters as I finish them. Aiming to end this off with the end of the Dragonsong war. Because, yeah.

* * *

J’mhazi had been cagey after the fight with Bismark, he knew. But it stung: The humiliation of it all. 

They were baited into hunting and killing a primal and for what? So that woman could hold him there and gloat while they took the very thing they needed to get to Azys Lla. That he could fell a God but was powerless to stop the Archbishop made him want to scream.

What good was a weapon if he.. If he couldn’t…

He worried at that line of thought until it frayed and snapped just as they reached the barrier.

He watched as Cid tried to hold the ship steady, could feel the ship rattling as they pushed against the shield. 

The ship wasn’t going to hold.

He could hear shouting and finally, they were turning. Back towards Ishgard. He let out a shaky breath as he gripped the guardrail tightly.

* * *

He’d do almost anything just to be able to return to see the smile on that face - _anything._

J’mhazi tightens his fist against the churning feeling in his gut at being presented with trekking far and away on yet another task. 

He stables Queenie for a couple of weeks. The bird coos sadly at him as he leaves her favorite greens with the chocobokeep. Pressing his face into her feathers for a few minutes he lets himself stand, and breathe.

"You've always been better about distance than I have, right?" He says, face still pressed into her wing. "Promise you won't be a pest?"

She kicks at the floor of the stable with her claws and ruffles out her wings, effectively shooing him away in a huff.

* * *

Finding and retrieving Y’shtola from the aetherial sea was a complete blur. Rushing around the Black Shroud - It wasn’t that he wasn’t excited to finally, _finally_ _,_ save one of their missing friends but... it still felt wrong, celebrating much of anything when there were still so many missing, still so much work to do.

With her help and expertise they were finally able to formulate a plan to get after the Archbishop. It took some convincing, a deep dive into an ancient library, but they were able to secure the assistance of Y’shtola’s mentor, Master Matoya. Which leaves them with...

...Plans for an aetheric spear, funny that. Sharp enough to pierce the shield around Azys Lla, with the power of the Azure Dragoon and The Eye behind it. 

Aymeric promises Estinien’s cooperation, and while he doesn’t doubt him in the slightest, he hasn’t so much as seen the man in question since they fought Nidhogg together. 

That he is immediately confronted with Estinien upon leaving _The Order of the Knights Most Heavenly_ should come as no surprise at this point in his life. 

“Warrior of Light.” Estinien barks. “I need to speak with you.” His tone is clipped, short, and it puts J’mhazi on guard immediately.

“Of course, Ser Estinien…” J’mhazi’s ears pull back, but he does his best not to let the tension rack through his body as every piece of the interaction screams a warning.

“Not here. Out in the Highlands.” Estinien says. J’mhazi raises an eyebrow. “I’ll meet you out... out where we first met.”

* * *

A bell later J’mhazi is out in the snow, near the empty Ixal camp in the cold. He whirls around quickly at the crunch of snow as Estinien lands behind him.

“Estinien, what is this about-” J’mhazi starts, exasperated.

“I’ve been watching you-“ Estinien forces out, barely a rumble over the winds. “At first it was just a curiosity about the man who bested me despite everything I threw into our duel...” J’mhazi stares hard at the taller Dragoon, chin rising in defiance. “But then you came to stay here; You stood with me against Nidhogg, defended our city. I wanted to _know_ you.” 

Estinien raises a hand to point directly at him and it draws J’mhazi’s attention.

“I watched, after our duel. Watched and waited. Kept watching, where I could.” There’s something cold and pointed about the way Estinien says it that makes him shiver despite his armored layers.

“...I saw what happened in Whitebrim.” Estinien says, curt, stepping closer. “And I watched as you picked up that sword again after what happened in the Vault.”

Eyes widen, and J’mhazi takes a cautious step back, schooling his expression back into something neutral before glancing away.

“You never said...” An ear twitches nervously, betraying his calm demeanor. “...What did you see..?

“I...don’t know what I saw.” Estinien says evenly, shrugging as if it was the most casual conversation they could be having. “But that sword you still carry on your back means you’re dangerous. More so even than with a lance, or an axe - simply because I don’t know.”

J’mhazi clenches his fists at his side, scraping the tips of his gauntlets against the chain on his palm.

“What do you _want from me_?” J’mhazi snarls, voice gone hoarse and dry. 

“Are you going to hurt him? Yourself? Can you know?“ Estinien snaps. A tense silence follows as neither of them dare to speak.

“...If I’m such a danger then why haven’t you cut me down?” J’mhazi says evenly, so quiet Estinien isn’t even sure he heard him. "You are Ishgard's protector, are you not?"  
  
It pains Estinien all the same to hear it spoken aloud, like this.

“Protect your people and the ones you care about.” The Miqo'te takes a step forward and tilts his head up further, baring his neck. Estinien looks down at him, shaking his head slowly. 

“I- no. That’s not what I-“ Estinien tries to start again but finds himself shoved roughly, with enough force that he’s pushed off balance.

“Do it, _you coward_ .” J’mhazi spits out bitterly. “This was troubling you enough to isolate me out in the snow so don’t **lie** to me and say you haven’t thought about it.” He curls a hand around the cold plating at the front of the Dragoon’s armor and tenses, daring Estinien to take the bait for what it is. 

Estinien remains silent but grips the hand that holds him fast, eyeing J’mhazi through the helm. “You know that’s not why-”

“I lost _everything_ in Uldah, more when I fled, _yet more_ in Ishgard when I let myself get lax and comfortable here and I’ve been expected to be calm and even-tempered while plans are made for where to use me next. I’ve given **everything** I have... and for what?” 

The words come out raw and misshapen, all at once. While not exactly of few words the man hardly shows rawness like this so openly. An unsettling feeling rises up around the emotions laid bare.

Estinien is glad for his helm hiding his face, giving him the space to study the expression on J’mazhi’s own. One of poorly hidden anguish layered under disdain and anger and...something else as his eyes flicker and change. The man grabs for his greatsword while still hanging on to Estinien’s armor.

“J’mhazi I won’t fight you, not again.” Estinien says, peeling J’mazhi’s hand off and away. As he does so, the hairs on his arm and the back of his neck raise and prickle. He takes but a second to register the motion in front of him before springing back and away from the arcing downswing of the sword coming to land where he stood only moments before.

“That’s not your choice to make, any longer.” He spits. “I didn’t want to fight you, either, back then.”

Sliding his greatsword free of it’s snowy home, J’mhazi settles into a hunched battle stance as he prepares to spring forward again.

“J’mhazi, _stop_ -” Estinien growls even as something in his blood thrills at the chance to cross weapons once again. He forces the thought down roughly and lets it die.

The other man bears his teeth and rushes forward. Prepared, Estinien draws his lance to counter and they’re evenly matched, apart from the heavy and desperate greatsword blows swiping upwards sending the Dragoon off balance as he struggles to bring his lance in to deflect. 

Metal scrapes against metal as Estinien does his best to turn away blow after blow. Unused to defensive fighting, he makes a misstep and his leg is caught by the flat of the other man’s sword and the ankle turns roughly as they fight. He curses but refuses to cry out.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” Estinien calls over the howling winds, jumping back with a wince to get some distance and pointing his lance down and to the side. 

The barking laugh that tears itself from J’mhazi’s throat as he stalks forward is chilling. A discordant sound not only because it is _so_ unlike him, but also because it no longer sounds like the man standing in front of him.

“You can’t hurt him in a way that would matter anymore.” J’mazhi’s voice shouts. “So finish this, if you can.”  
  


Estinien lowers his guard, just for a moment, voice dying in his throat in incredulity.

The Dark Knight rushes forward, faster than he should be able to, shrouded in darkness.

Barely scraping together a proper defense in time, Estinien watches, trading blows as the initial surprise wears off. He sends a sharp jab of his own straight to a gap in J’mhazi’s defenses, slicing along ribs, and he couples it with a strike to the back of the knee. Blood seeps it’s way down J’mhazi’s armor into the snow and he finally slows, as if being drained by something. A shout tears itself free above the howl of the wind.

Sluggishly he brings his sword to meet the lance coming to strike at his heart but he pauses just before bringing it to bear. He lets his arms fall to the side and his sword with them. Estinien barely has time to stop his lance before it strikes true but he does, tension shaking the spear tip as it presses gently against the other man.

“ _J’mhazi_.” Estinien says urgently. “Are you…?” 

With unfocused eyes J’mhazi shakes his head and wavers, falling to a knee. He releases his sword into the snow at his side.

Estinien grunts and thrusts the spear tip-down into the icy ground and closes the distance between them. As he approaches, J’mhazi is already rising back to his feet, struggling on spent limbs.

“Just..leave me.” He grits out while grasping at his side, eyeing the way Estinien himself favors his left leg. His voice softens as he looks up at the Dragoon. “We both know it’s what you want.” J’mhazi lets a wan smile play across his face as he loses the rest of his words, his legs giving out completely and he collapses into the snow on a winded exhale.

Cursing, Estinien slides into the snow to retrieve him, pulling him from the drift of white. Turning him face up with care. Lips cracked blue and trembling, he can faintly hear the other man intone an apology over, and over again, unshed tears freezing on his lashes in the Coerthan wind.

“ _J’mhazi -_ ” Estinien says harshly, gripping the smaller man by the jaw and turning his head back to face upwards. J’mhazi huffs out a breath as he slowly brings a hand up to rest against Estinien’s arm. He tugs it down only slightly so it rests at his neck instead.

Estinien’s eyes narrow beneath his helm.

“I’ve hurt you, I’ll hurt Aymeric too - you know, you’ve seen-” J’mhazi croaks, peering up at him through half lidded eyes.

“Get up.” Estinien grits out as he pulls his hand away and down so it rests at the armor on J’mhazi’s front. “I won’t let you use me to harm yourself further.” 

“ _Why-_ ” J’mhazi hisses even as he leverages his grip on Estinien’s arm to pull himself forward, opening his eyes. “Because Ishgard needs me to fight? Now you stay your hand? Because from where I stand you were perfectly willing to- _oof_ ” He’s cut off from his tirade as Estinien shoves him bodily back against the snowy ground.

The Elezen hunches over him, pressing down firmly against his chest.

“ _Stop talking_...”

J’mhazi grabs Estinien’s wrist. “Tell me why-.” Estinien shakes his head, leaning back but not relinquishing his grip. 

“ _Why did you bring me out here._ ” 

“I-” Estinien replies. He wanted answers, an explanation for what he saw in Whitebrim, for what he had tried to ignore, but as he stares down at the man under him - wounded by his hand - he’s unable to press.

“You have the trust of a great many people.” Estinien says after a pause. “But you’re being reckless, careless-”

“You’re a hypocrite! You-” J’mhazi’s voice shakes. “You don’t even know me! I’m not only my title, I’m not just the second Azure Dragoon-“ He grips Estinien’s arm tightly “You hurt Alberic, hurt _me_ , and then you just _left_. And after everything, you....” 

  
  
It takes everything Estinien has in him not to release him and flee at that admission.

J’mhazi shivers in the snow as he tries to stare through the helm hiding Estinien’s face, trying to read him. Estinien reveals nothing but the stony set of his jaw. J’mhazi strains to calm himself.

  
“It-It doesn’t matter...Let me up.” J’mhazi says, drained, deflating. The Elezen moves back reluctantly and stands. After considering a moment he extends a hand out. J’mhazi takes it tentatively and allows himself to be hauled to standing. J’mhazi winces and cradles the gash on his side.  
  


“Forgive me, I was overzealous-” Estinien starts, quietly, but J’mhazi waves him off.  
  
“I attacked you, so just drop it, alright?” J’mhazi says, lips drawn together tightly as he limps towards his greatsword. He does his best to pick it up without reopening the gash and clips it to his back. He turns to find Estinien unmoving, facing him. 

J’mhazi takes a step back towards the other man.

“Look, I- ” He exhales. “I’m sorry. I… I could wax poetic about a dark place and the abyss, but I’m just....” His brow furrows. “Tired. You are right. I’m not myself right now.”

Estinien nods, just once, considering. “Is that what you tell your charges, then? Does that young 'lordling' believe you when you tell him that, as well? That you’re tired?”

J’mhazi physically recoils at that and turns away again, limping off towards Ishgard proper.

Estinien sighs and trudges over to retrieve his lance, stowing it before falling into step behind J’mhazi. They walk in mute silence, snow crunching under plated boot heel. Even with a rapidly bruising sprain, Estinien’s long gait affords him ample opportunity to pass the other man, but he slows to match pace. 

J’mhazi slows further still, letting out a shallow wheeze and clutching his side more firmly. Estinien stops and turns, watching some dark aether start to knit itself into the wound at J’mhazi’s side, seemingly at his behest, and Estinien grabs the man’s hand away from it roughly.

“ _Hey-_ “ J’mhazi snaps. “Let me handle it - I need to be able to _walk_.” He bares his teeth.

Estinien pulls him close by the arm, growling. 

“Hang on to me.” 

“...What?” Mismatched eyes blink in surprise as his captured arm is draped up and over broad shoulders as the Dragoon bends to compensate for their difference in height.

“...tightly.” Estinien continues as he tenses to leap. J’mhazi barely has time to scramble for a hold on the front of Estinien’s armor, before the ground is whisked away. The only thing solid that remains is the body pressed entirely too close to him and the arm wrapped tightly around his middle, carefully avoiding the injury.

J’mhazi shuts his eyes and curls towards Estinien despite himself. Feeling the rushing air sail past his ears, the two of them spring from metal awning to rooftop, to chimney, based on the sound of Estinien’s footfalls. J’mhazi can feel a scream threatening to tear it’s way from his throat until all of a sudden the air is still and his feet are under him once more.

Still clinging to the Dragoon, he opens his eyes to a facade and small alcove; familiar, tucked between two buildings he knows well. 

“Estinien, no, why did you bring me _here_ of all places _._ ” He whispers under his breath, as he falters on his feet trying desperately to push off and towards the wooden door of the Forgotten Knight.

He’s met with stony silence and a firm grip on the back of his armor as Estinien half-drags him towards the entrance to _The Order of the Knights Most Heavenly._

“ _Please_ , Estinien, he’s got enough to worry about-”

This does give the Dragoon pause and he falters slightly in step before storming past the guard at the door and pushing inside, the other man in tow.

* * *

“What in the _Heavens_ happened to you?” The Lord Commander rises, alarm delicate but clear in his voice. He abandons his paperwork, taking a long look over the pair entering his office. His eyes widen seeing the darkening patch on J’mhazi’s side as Estinien guides him to sit on a chair near to the desk.

“Sorry, ‘m gonna bleed on your nice seating…” J’mhazi murmurs, keeping his gaze averted and hand pressed against the wound, ears folding back to rest against his hair.

“ _Stay_ -” Aymeric says sternly in warning, to both men, with a pointed finger leveled to each of them. “I expect an explanation will be forthcoming.” J’mhazi glares at Estinien, who shrugs. 

Aymeric exits his own personal offices with haste, leaving the door ajar and the two are left alone.

J’mhazi sags in his chair. 

“This was the worst place you could have taken us.” J’mhazi whines. “What are we supposed to say?”

“Exactly what happened.” Estinien grunts. “We were sparring, too roughly, and came to the first safe place I could think of.” He folds his arms over his chest. 

J’mhazi gives him a soft look before mouthing a quiet ‘ _thank you_ ’ as he hears the door creak open once again. Aymeric strides in with a steaming basin and an irate looking chirurgeon in tow. J’mhazi stiffens, staring at the stranger, as Aymeric places the basin on the table beside him.

“J’mhazi, ah. You’ll need to take your armor off.” Aymeric says. “Please.” 

He reaches his free hand to his shoulder to begin to slowly unlatch the straps. Satisfied that he’s at least attempting to do as requested, Aymeric whirls on Estinien and strides over to stand near him.

“Where?” He says, laying a hand lightly on Estinien’s shoulder. Estinien shakes his head. The Lord Commander, brow furrowing, makes a very uncharacteristic noise of frustration and yanks the visor on Estinien’s helmet up to look him directly in the eye.

“ _Where_ are you hurting?” He says, gripping the visor of the helm firmly as Estinien attempts to pull away. After a beat, Estinien’s eyes flit down to his left leg. “The ankle.” Aymeric releases the visor and kneels at his feet as Estinien re-adjusts his helm. 

Aymeric clamps a hand around the wounded ankle and intones something quietly under his breath. His hand suffusing with a familiar light, he draws it along the injury with a remarkable amount of care. Estinien looks away, uncomfortable with the attention, but mumbling a quiet thanks under his breath all the same. They both look up at the soft sounds of protest from the other side of the room.

“...I’m sorry, just, _please don’t touch me_ , I-” 

Aymeric turns his head to see the chirurgeon attempting to pull up the torn fabric at J’mhazi’s side, and the obvious discomfort as the man practically squirms his way out of the seat, teeth locked together. Pauldrons, gauntlets and plating discarded, J’mhazi’s dark shirt stuck bloodied and discolored to his side while he claws at it to keep the chirurgeon from him.

“Master J’mhazi _please-_ ” She says, exasperated. “I promise it won’t be but a moment - I need to clean the wound, and I need to see it to do that.” 

“-Thank you Frieda, I think I will be able to handle it from here.” Aymeric says, smiling warmly as he rises.

  
  
“Lord Commander, if I may, your own injuries aside-”

“That will be all, Frieda.” He says, a bit more firmly. J’mhazi curls in on himself as she pulls away.

The chirurgeon sighs a long exasperated sigh and turns, with Aymeric leading her out of the office. She hastily presses a medical kit into his hands along with a potion bottle and gives him a curt but respectful nod before he shuts the door.

Aymeric strides over and deposits the kit next to the basin on his desk. Estinien leans casually on the desk a few ilms aside.

Looking down, Aymeric can see the line of J’mhazi’s spine through his shirt where it’s pulled taut as he leans forward as far as his injury will allow. 

“Is it true?” Estinien asks.

“My recovery is proceeding apace, but I won’t be joining you in battle anytime soon.” Aymeric smiles, but it’s a strained one. He removes his halfgloves and cleans his hands, looking down at his now-patient.

“J’mhazi?” He says carefully, placing two fingertips gently on a shoulder.

The Miqo'te tenses briefly, then lets his shoulders drop. 

Aymeric lays his hand more firmly on his shoulder. “I’m going to cut the shirt the rest of the way to remove it from you, alright?” 

J’mhazi nods wordlessly.

Starting carefully at the collar at the back, Aymeric takes the scissors from the kit and cuts into the fabric, splitting it down the neck and under the arm towards the gash on his ribs. Taking a breath in, Aymeric breaks the tense silence as he kneels down.

“J’mhazi I need you to move your hand. Can you do that for me?”

The hand splayed across his side digs in, blood trickling from between his fingers. Aymeric curls his own hand around around the wrist of the one barring his way and squeezes gently, then waits. 

With an exhale that comes out more a hiss than anything else, J’mhazi loosens his grip and allows his hand to be pulled aside. 

Finishing the cut through the shirt quickly and with nimble fingers, Aymeric deposits the scissors behind him without looking and chances a glance up at his companion. Eyes clenched shut and face screwed up into a grimace, J’mhazi looks drawn and pale. Very unlike him.

After pulling the ruined shirt free, detangling it from J’mhazi’s arms and carefully removing it from where the dried blood had it clinging to the skin, Aymeric finally gets a good look at the cut and it is a _deep_ and jagged thing.

J’mhazi reclines as best he can, bringing the back of his bloodied hand up to hide his face as he watches, other hand gripping the arm of the chair like a vice.

A cloth is soaked, and Aymeric begins to clean. 

Staring directly down, the only movement he makes is a slight tensing in his abdomen - J’mhazi makes no noise of protest or of pain. Aymeric takes a moment to check and make sure he’s still present at least twice before continuing, trying to catch his eyes with his own to no avail. 

All the while, Estinien watches silently, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot as he leans against the desk.

“Estinien, the kit, if you please?” 

He does as bade, collecting the kit off the table and depositing it in the outstretched hand.

“Now. One of you is going to explain to me what happened and why you came to me. Are you in danger? Did it happen within the city?” Aymeric asks calmly while unfurling the kit and selecting a glass dropper bottle from it.

To his surprise, it is Estinien who replies.

“T’was a sparring match gone awry, ‘Meric. I-” He clears his throat. “This was the first place I thought to go.” 

Aymeric looks away from his task momentarily to regard the Dragoon, unused to such open admissions from him.

“This seems like much more than a sparring injury.” He murmurs, returning to the wound and prodding around it carefully before dropping a generous amount of the tincture over the jagged gash.

“I-” J’mhazi starts from behind his bloodied hand, voice strained. “It was my fault. I pushed too hard with equipment that was damaged. The blame lies with me.” Estinien hums in agreement.

Aymeric looks up to J’mhazi, eyes so clear and trusting it breaks J’mhazi’s heart to see him question the answer given. Aymeric sighs and returns to the wound, covering it with his palm and murmuring a quiet word to The Fury before the light returns and he works healing directly, weaving skin and mending tissue.

J’mhazi gasps in surprise at the surge of energy and the warmth that accompanies it, feeling it knit and tend to wounds from within, stretching even to mend the forgotten wound on the back of his leg.

“Aymeric…” Estinien warns. 

“Estinien - pray do not lecture me on expenditures of aether when you brought yourselves here.” He counters. Estinien presses his mouth firmly shut against any forming rebuttal. “...I’m glad for the opportunity to assist... and I was prepared for this small help at least, lest you worry.” Aymeric says, smiling softly as he finishes. “It will likely scar, I’m afraid, and you’ll be bruised until Master Alphinaud can get a proper look at it but I’ve done what I can.”

“Thank you, Aymeric, I-“ J’mhazi starts but Aymeric holds up a hand.

“I won’t pretend to understand what it is that you feel, or what causes you such discomfort but I count myself lucky to be among your trusted.” He says as he takes J’mhazi’s bloodied hand and begins to wipe it clean as well.

J’mhazi flushes and looks away. 

“I’ve sent word to House Foretemps as I imagine they did not expect you absent overlong.” Aymeric says. “But please, stay as long as you need.”

Aymeric rises slowly, rinsing his own hands and collecting the kit and basin. He opens the office door and a quiet chatting is heard from the hall.

J’mhazi rises to his feet with a grunt, and wavers, catching himself heavily on the edge of the large desk at the center. Estinien is at his elbow in an instant.

“ _Halone’s tits_ , J’mhazi, _sit down_ \- you look pale as death.” Estinien hisses, gripping his arm firmly and leading him around instead to a barely used couch in front of the fire. J’mhazi eases himself to sit once more and gets an arm up just in time to intercept the blanket thrown his way. He wraps it around himself and considers the Dragoon standing at his side, staring.

“ _What_.” Estinien grunts.

Opening his mouth to respond, he cuts it off as Aymeric returns.

A hand ghosts lightly over his shoulder before withdrawing.

“If you feel able to rest here, please do.” Aymeric says quietly, watching with affection as J’mhazi folds himself into the arm of the sofa. He turns then to Estinien and walks pointedly back towards his desk. Estinien can see the tense way he holds himself while standing and that it’s still causing some measure of discomfort. Aymeric drops himself back into the chair behind and shuts his eyes, running a hand over his face. Estinien tears his eyes away.

He spends a moment or two more looking down at J’mhazi in his recline, face unreadable under the helm, then the Dragoon turns and pads quietly towards the window. He almost gets his hand around the locking clasp before he hears a dark chuckle from behind him.

“You would leave then, with nary a word, Estinien?” 

The Dragoon stiffens and drops his hand.

“I was hoping to remove myself from the situation, aye.”

“ _Why._ ” Aymeric strains the syllable. “Why are you always quick to arrive, throwing everything into a maddening rush and then _so_ desperate to leave.”

“ ‘Meric, I-”

“Don’t. It’s not fair.” Aymeric says. “I don’t begrudge you your privacy, truly, but it pains me.”

Estinien flinches, drawing himself away from the window, and further still to peer over the edge of the sofa at J’mhazi. Satisfied that his breathing has evened out and face has gone slack with sleep, he returns and leans over the desk to face Aymeric.

“ _He_ needs you right now. I brought him here because _I trust you_ but he needs you.” 

Aymeric can’t keep the surprise from his face this time. “What are you saying, Estinien...”

“I’ll speak plainly. I don’t know what it is that torments him so, I...am inelegant with this sort of thing, but he cares for you and I wager you’re harbouring some feelings for the Foretemps ward, aren’t you? Your presence is a comfort to him.”

“I don’t dare-” Aymeric’s voice takes on a sharper edge, tinged with grief. “You know... _you know_ it was my fault. My foolishness, that cost him. No one can provide that kind of succor. Even if he claims not to resent me - _I do._ ” 

In his tirade, Estinien had made his way over to stand near, drawing his attention back with a gauntleted hand laying to rest on his cheek. Bright blue eyes, misty in misery, snap up to search for Estinien’s beneath the helm. The Dragoon selfishly lowers his chin further to hide.

“This self-pitying is an ugly thing on you, Lord Commander.” Estinien rumbles as he swipes his thumb along a cheekbone.

Aymeric narrows his eyes as he stares into the impassive helm and scoffs.

“I wanted to prevent more harm. Take that burden from him, even for a little while, but now I have to ask him… Ask you both to go out and take such risks to make it right.” Aymeric grabs on to the hand resting at his face. “And you bring yourselves to me injured and spent. Tell me, truly, is that all there was to it? ...I confess I don’t know him nearly as well as I’d like to but I’ve never seen him like this.”

Estinien lifts up the visor on his helm but still struggles to meet Aymeric’s gaze..

“I… was not gentle with him. I did not take care where I should have and it sparked something. I- it’s not my place to discuss...” Estinien looks away. “He wasn’t going to stop until he broke himself on my lance. I _promise you_ this was not what I wanted.”

Aymeric weighs the words in silence for a time.

“...You’re quite the pair, aren’t you?” 

Estinien frowns and pulls himself away from the other man. Aymeric, smiling despite everything, rises carefully to follow.

“I won’t ask you to stay, but I thank you for coming to me all the same. To know it was within your instincts to do so is...” He trails off, cupping the Dragoon’s face in both hands, pausing for a moment before pressing his luck and kissing Estinien chastely on the lips.

With a surge of possessive energy Estinien pulls Aymeric against him and claims his mouth, angling his helm’s visor to the side and nipping gently at Aymeric’s bottom lip. They part, flushed, and Aymeric gazes adoringly at the other man.

“Do not stray far from me for long,” Aymeric murmurs. Estinien carefully drags his hand along the line of Aymeric’s jaw before pulling away. 

“I’ll return, as I always do.” Estinien says as he clicks the visor back into place. ”Do talk to him, Aymeric. I will... as well. When I am able.”

“Estinien?”

He turns back at the window to regard Aymeric over his shoulder.

“You’ll be alright, the two of you? You know my feelings for you aren’t in question.” Aymeric says to his retreating back.

“Nor...mine for you.” Estinien says after a moment. “I am not sure the shape of it as of yet, I am fond of him, I think. That’s… likely why we’re in this mess.” His mouth turns up into a smile before facing away once more.

Aymeric watches the Dragoon retreat through the window he opens, lance in tow. He latches the window shut after a moment before the chill sets in, sighing to himself before returning to his desk, taking a comically large swig of cold and bitter tea.

* * *

J’mhazi dozes, completely unaware, his limbs relaxing and stretched out in sleep. An arm sneaking out from underneath the blanket, fingers sliding to brush against the cold floor. He does not stir, did not stir, through the visits from Aymeric’s attendants that could no longer be avoided; their pointed conversations passing harmlessly around him. If any one of them found it passing strange that the Warrior of Light was indisposed in the Lord Commander’s offices, no one thought to say a word.  
  
Aymeric had a veritable mountain of things to attend to. With Thordan fled with his Knights and now stolen away with the key to Azys Lla, having destabilized the very foundations of the city; there was more unrest. No one who knows the situation is prepared or willing to guide Ishgard in her time of need. No one, it seems, save him and _by The Fury_ he wishes it wasn’t so. By all accounts the Warrior himself had things to attend to as well. But if anyone deserves rest, it was him.

He has work to do, but Aymeric is instead mesmerized by the gentle and rhythmic breathing coming from the man temporarily in his care. 

Shaking himself out of his stupor, he pens a quick note and seals it, passing it off to an attendant he calls from outside his office.

Throwing decorum to the wayside for the moment, he draws close to the sleeping man and pulls a chair near to sit. He lifts the stray arm that had fallen free and tucks back against J’mhazi’s side.

J’mhazi stirs, and makes a quiet noise of protest.

“I’m sorry to wake you, but I’d like to see you tended to and resting in a bed before the evening, I should think. I’ve called for Master Alphinaud to come and assist in getting you back to Manor Foretemps.”

Blearily, J’mhazi turns his head to the side and exhales in a huff through his nose.

“..Mm, want to stay with you.” He hums quietly.

And if that doesn’t cut into the heart of him. Aymeric takes a hand in both of his.

“J’mhazi, I-“

“Mhazi.” The man in question interrupts, opening his eyes and blinking to clear them. “You can call me Mhazi.”

“Oh.” Aymeric says, rather stupidly, as little gears click together in his head. He smiles and looks down at their hands joined together.

J’mazhi squeezes the hands clasped around his own and slowly sits up. Aymeric quickly shifts his grip down the arm to assist best he can and it brings them close. Too close.

“You know I adore you, right?” J’mhazi murmurs, tilting his head, their breath almost mingling. Aymeric nods once, slowly, and opens his mouth as if to speak, letting out a small and almost pained sound.

“Darling... _please_ kiss me.” J’mhazi sighs into Aymeric’s continued resistance as he smooths his hand along the draped blue fabric swaying in front of him, drawing Aymeric closer, letting his hand roam around to rest against the back of the other man’s neck.

Aymeric finally relents and allows himself the indulgence he feels is undeserved, despite mounting evidence to the contrary. J’mhazi’s lips part hungrily and with little prompting, letting the taste of stale tea spread between them. 

The Miqo'te lets out a contented sigh when Aymeric gathers him close, pressing his chest near to the Lord Commander’s armor, chilled even through the blanket wrapped around him. 

“...Come to me tomorrow...when you’re rested and tended to. I would…” Aymeric whispers. “I would see you off before you leave for Azys Lla.” He buries his face against J’mhazi’s neck and holds him tightly, just breathing in, before gently releasing him and standing.

“Of course.” J’mhazi replies softly, flushed. “I had ah,” he looks away sheepishly for just a moment, “well, I had thought that you might want to spend that night with Estinien.” He reddens further.

“...What would you say if I told you that I did, Mhazi?” Aymeric says, looking down at him with heat. 

J’mhazi’s lips part in a breathy exhale.

_Oh._

  
  
“- _oh._ ” He whispers, barely audible, his turn to be at a loss for words. J’mhazi flushes and it spreads across his chest, squirming under the Lord Commander’s gaze. 

Aymeric takes mercy on him a moment later and steps around the couch and out of his view.

J’mhazi can hear a faint rustling but when he turns to try and look there’s a painful tug at his side; a warning from his only recently mended wound. Aymeric returns in short order with a shirt draped over his arm, hands outstretched. 

“Here, let me…” Aymeric says quietly. J’mhazi takes the proffered hands and between the two of them he is pulled upright, with J’mhazi mindful of Aymeric own recent injuries.

“Mine apologies about your other shirt, but I don’t believe there was any salvaging it.” Aymeric says and J’mhazi waves the comment aside. 

“It’s no issue, though I suppose I’ll need to find where my other shirts went.” J’mhazi smiles as Aymeric offers the one in his arms. The shirt is silver, of good make, smooth to the touch - far too nice to be worn when he’s been running around Coerthas and bleeding everywhere. 

“Aymeric, thank you, but I could have just worn any old shirt.” He runs his thumb along the collar.

“The only thing I have readily available at the moment, I’m afraid.” Aymeric says, taking the shirt and holding it out. J’mhazi turns so he can slide his arms into the shirt one at a time, dropping the blanket off his shoulders as he does. As J’mhazi pulls the shirt up his back, he feels a finger trace up along a scar next to his left shoulder blade. “...You’ve not treated yourself kindly in a long time, have you?” Aymeric murmurs. J’mhazi tugs the shirt into place and turns around. 

“Life isn’t kind, but we don’t often need reminding of that.” J’mhazi smiles, strained, as he sets to buttoning the shirt at the front.

“Ah, forgive me.” Aymeric starts, falling into a frown.

“It was another life, Aymeric, It’s alright.” J’mhazi reaches for him and brings their foreheads together. 

A knock at the door interrupts their quiet moment, and they part. Lucia opens the door only slightly, nodding to the both of them. 

“Master Alphinaud has arrived, Lord Commander.” She says.

“Please send him up, Lucia, thank you.” Aymeric replies.

Aymeric turns back to J’mhazi.

“I should like to hear about your other life, J’mhazi, truly.” He says, softly, before stealing a quick kiss and buttoning up the shirt the rest of the way. It carries a delicate smell of sandalwood and vanilla, decidedly of _Aymeric_ and it sets J’mhazi briefly to distraction before the door to the office opens once more and Alphinaud himself strolls in.

“I must admit you had us worried before Lord Aymeric sent word, J’mhazi.” He says, chiding. J’mhazi has the decency to look sheepish for a moment before Alphinaud continues. “What happened?”

“I was injured - Ser Estinien brought me back here and Lord Aymeric did waste a good portion of his afternoon making sure I didn’t bleed out everywhere.” J’mhazi chuckles.

Alphinaud frowns.

“...It’s nothing, Alphinaud, I’m fine.” J’mhazi sighs, thinking back to Estinen’s words from earlier that day.

“You’ll want to take care of the remaining bruising, Master Alphinaud.” Aymeric says from somewhere behind his desk. “I did what I could but I am no healer.” 

Alphinaud raises an eyebrow at his friend who doesn’t respond and looks away. 

“Lets go h...back to the manor, then.” J’mhazi says. “Will I see you tomorrow, Lord Commander?” 

“Yes, there is something I wish to discuss ere you depart for Azys Lla.” Aymeric says, voice lowering into something that could almost be considered a rasp.

Alphinaud, blissfully, does not notice, busy attending to his friend. 

“I’ll have your equipment returned on the morrow, leave it.” He says, as J’mhazi makes to collect his armaments, “I’ll send Ser Estinien to escort you.” 

J’mhazi nods. “Thank you.” He holds his gaze before turning to the door and leaving, Alphinaud close behind him.

* * *

Alphinaud hands J’mhazi a woolen cloak before the exit to the building.

“You’ll catch a chill - here.” He says, and J’mhazi throws it over his shoulders before pushing open the large wooden doors.

They walk slowly down the cobblestones towards the steps in the forum to the Pillars. J’mhazi looks up, momentarily paralyzed and stops in his tracks.

“Alphinaud, I can’t. Go this way, I mean. I-”

“It’s fine, J’mhazi, we can go the longer way.” Alphinaud smiles, and turns abruptly, leaving no more room for bumbling.

J’mhazi smiles and pulls the cloak tighter around himself as they walk towards the Brume.

* * *

J’mhazi collapses in his room at Manor Foretemps a bell and a half later, exhausted. Dodging questions politely had been one thing, but putting up with Alphinaud’s ministrations had been another thing entirely. Thankfully a fire had been started and tended in his room in his absence so it wasn’t absolutely frigid.

His borrowed shirt, unbuttoned and pushed aside, is removed and hung on the edge of his bedpost while the rest of his clothes are piled to be laundered. Absently running his hand along his side as he pads towards the wash, all that remains of the afternoon's unpleasantness is a thin and faded scar and some lingering soreness.

He draws a bath, as hot as he can stand it. Peeling off his remaining smallclothes, he sinks into the water with a sigh. Knocking a selection of soap into the stream of water, he watches it foam until the tub fills and he scrubs some of it into his hair, rinsing it before turning the tap off, sitting in silence.

He soaks, sliding his shoulders down into the water and leaning back, and dozes off without realizing, his eyelids too heavy to keep open in the warmth and steam. 

* * *

Estinien quietly flicked open the window and let himself in, closing it as quickly as he could behind him. Maybe it was inappropriate to be breaking into the bedroom of the Warrior of Light in the late evening, but he certainly wasn’t going to come knocking from the front, Estinien mused to himself. He leaves _Gae Bolg_ carefully propped up by the wall at the window.

He stepped lightly. The room was dim and empty, he noted. Clothing and odds and ends strewn about; A light was on in the wash. Estinien paused. No noise was forthcoming. Was he…?

Peering around the door all he could see of the man was a slip of dark navy hair spilling over the edge of the tub and his ears relaxed and unmoving. Estinien takes another step forward and the man doesn’t stir, not even a twitch.

Concern begins to override his other common senses and he moves to the side of the tub, looking down. 

“J’mhazi.” He says, once. For his efforts he’s greeted with nothing more than a gentle exhale.

He gently taps the side of the J’mhazi’s face with the flat of his gauntleted hand.

“Wake up.” 

* * *

The Echo pings out a subtle warning of proximity and J’mhazi can’t quite parse it, addled as he is. Something cold and unyielding and altogether unpleasant meets his face and he can almost hear something.

The Echo pings louder yet and his eyes snap open to find a helm pressed far too close into his space and he yelps, flailing an arm out.

It is caught in Estinien’s grip before it collides with his face and he gulps in air, staring wildly, willing his heartbeat to return to normal.

“Estinien?” He hisses. “What in the _seven hells_ are you doing in my suite?”

“I-” He starts, letting go of J’mhazi’s arm abruptly. “I came to talk. I didn’t feel the front door suitable this time of evening.”

“This time of evening might be a touch unsuitable in general.” J’mhazi scoffs leaning in to cover himself in the bath. “Can you, uh- Can I have a moment?”

“...Are you sure you’re alright?” Estinien asks. “How long have you been in here? I couldn’t wake you.”

  
  
“Estinien! Get out, _please-_ “ J’mhazi says, embarrassment flushing his face in the now-tepid water.

Estinien makes a placating gesture with his hands, backing his way out of the wash and settling facing away, casually leaning against the wall.

J’mhazi sighs to himself and draws his hand through his hair a few times to try and detangle it. Stepping out of the water with a shiver, he retrieves a towel and dries as quick as he can. He takes an extra minute or two to softly pat down his tail in an attempt to brush over the fur before giving up and resigning himself to an uncomfortable mess of a morning.

He wraps another dry towel around his hips and drains the bath, rubbing at his hair with the first one to try and dry it and ward off the chill. He moves to stand in front of the modest fireplace briefly before plopping down on his bed.

“So…” J’mhazi breaks the tense silence. “What can I help you with this evening, Estinien?”

The Dragoon pushes off from the wall and walks over. Presented now with _actually_ speaking with him, Estinien falters. 

“I wanted to…” Estinien says. “I didn’t like how we left things off.” 

“It is fine, Estinien.” J’mhazi huffs. “Though I do appreciate you breaking into my room to check...I think - if anything, I should ask how you’re doing, about your leg.” He says tilting his head to the side as he tousles the back of his hair with the towel.

“My leg?” He asks, incredulous. “Like you, I was attended to.”

J’mhazi looks off rather fondly. 

“He is attentive, certainly. Is this something that comes up frequently, or…?”

Estinien looks pointedly at the other man.

“Right, yes. You are a veritable one man army, and stubborn.” J’mhazi says dryly.

“...Are you speaking of me, or of yourself?” Estinien says.

J’mhazi’s head snaps up to glare at the impassive now-red helm that Estinien wears. He stands and tosses the towel from his hair in a pile with the rest of his laundry. 

“Stop that. What is it you really want, Estinien?” J’mhazi says as he stands and stares up at the Dragoon.

He watches as Estinien’s jaw clenches, try as he might to hide it beneath the helm. J’mhazi grows more nervous the longer they stand in silence, their noticeable difference in height unsettling something low in his belly. 

“What happened in the Highlands, I- it shouldn’t have happened like that. Forgive me.” Estinien says. J’mhazi sighs and hesitantly lifts his hands towards the helm hiding his features. 

“What are you doing?” Estinien murmurs as the hands reach him.

“Please?” J’mhazi says as he pulls at the clasping on the helmet. “I want to see your eyes, I-“ when he’s not stopped, he fumbles for the release and Estinien bows his head so the helm can be removed.

Silver hair spills down onto his shoulders, free from the confines of the helm. They lock eyes at a sharp intake of breath from J’mhazi that he can’t quite keep in.

“You should… I mean, your hair’s nice...” J’mhazi mumbles absently, taking the helm and placing it on a dresser to the side. He shakes his head. Estinien watches him curiously, grey eyes noting the subtle flush dusting his cheeks and the way his ears twitch in a manner one can only describe as nervous. J’mhazi continues their previous line of discussion:

“...You were trying to protect Aymeric, there’s nothing to forgive. If anything you were right to be worried, I-” J’mhazi says at last, facing the Dragoon. “I never want to hurt either of you.”

“Yet you wanted to be hurt.”

Estinien notes a subtle flinch. “I felt I deserved it.”

The Dragoon grunts his disapproval.

“In truth I came here to see how you fared, only to find you halfway unconscious in a bath, J’mhazi-“ Estinien continues.

“I’m _fine-_ ”

“From one liar to another.” Estinien’s mouth curls up at one side. “It...pains me to know how similar we are in that regard.” 

“Such candor from you today.” J’mhazi murmurs, half turning away under the scrutiny.

That won’t do at all. Estinien reaches for him before he can think better of it, metal gauntlet resting on a bare shoulder. J’mhazi’s skin pricks with gooseflesh but he turns back and looks up. Openly vulnerable, almost fragile.

Estinien can’t help but lean in and press their lips together.

J’mhazi makes a soft sound and his eyes flutter shut, tangling his hands through unkempt silver hair. Shivering when Estinien’s other hand sweeps low along his waist at the back. The hand in Estinien’s hair pulls harder and he groans.

“I-“ J’mhazi breathes against Estinien when they part briefly.

“No more talk.” Estinien rumbles, pressing against the smaller man until he’s pushed back against his own bed. A gentle shove against his sternum and J’mhazi falls onto the mattress, dragging Estinien with him by the front of his armor.

Estinien presses in again, careful of the edges on his mail. J’mhazi bites down tenderly on Estinien’s bottom lip and Estinien stutters out his name, nosing his way down to the man’s neck to suck in a mark on the delicate skin, earning a breathy moan and J’mhazi throws his head back into the bedding.

“Gods, Estinien, _please-”_

Something within Estinien _roars_ to hear the cry of the man that bested him, now completely at his mercy. That power and drive, yielding _completely_ _to him_ … The need of it fills his mind with the sound of his own thundering pulse and it’s all he can do to pull his head back to stare wildly.

J’mhazi pants, staring up at him through half-lidded eyes. Estinien drags a hand down his flank to rest at his hips. 

“All this-'' Smoothing his gauntleted hand carefully across J’mhazi’s abdomen to tease where the towel lay tied. “You’d yield to me willingly?” 

Estinien follows the apple of his throat as J’mhazi swallows.

“Yes.” He rasps. 

Estinien lays his forehead gently against J’mhazi’s, suddenly overwhelmed. 

“Fury, I am undone.” Estinien murmurs, leaning back and away to kneel and stare down at the other man, arousal clear in the strain beneath the towel.

“I cannot, not tonight.” He smiles, clearly conflicted. Wanting to stay but drawing away to leave. “...Tell your pilot friend you need one more day in the city. Keep your linkpearl in reach.”

J’mhazi is flustered, but he nods once before reaching forwards and propping himself up to trap the Dragoon in another bruising kiss.

“Get some rest.” Estinien says as he pulls up and away, retrieving his helmet and lance.

And like a dream, he’s out the window and off, leaving J’mhazi alone in his room, uncomfortably aroused. He falls back against his bed with a sigh.

He thinks of the feeling of teeth hot at his neck, the feeling of Estinien’s gauntlet dragging across his skin, and his cock throbs almost painfully. He slips a hand under the towel to palm his length, letting out a soft moan that he stifles with his other hand.

He strokes down firmly to squeeze at the head, pleasure coiling in his gut. J’mhazi feels warm, radiating heat from his bared chest as he continues, swirling his thumb around the head before allowing himself to thrust into his fist.

He bends a leg at the knee, tensing.

Another stroke, two and he’s spilling into his hand under the towel, gasping for breath.

J’mhazi is still for a few minutes, unmoving, until he feels the telltale chill of icy winds ghost over his overheated skin. Moving sluggishly, he rises, wiping his hand on the towel, and latches the window shut.

Trading the now unclean bath towel for a pair of soft pants, he pulls the bed covers back and tucks himself in, falling deeply into a dreamless sleep.

* * *


	2. Able

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Aymeric presses a kiss to the bruise on J’mhazi’s neck before locking eyes with Estinien._
> 
> _“Your handiwork, I presume?”_
> 
> _Estinien’s throat bobs in a rough swallow as he nods. “We’ve talked, him and I.“_
> 
> _“Talked, hm? I find I very much like the look of this - and I’d like to see for myself what makes him writhe .”_
> 
> _J’mhazi lets out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding and it all but comes out in a gasp as both sets of hands are set upon him, enticing but brief._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ends exactly where you think it does and I'm sorry.

* * *

  
As promised, Estinien does come to collect him not long past supper the next day.

J’mhazi bids goodbye to Alphinaud, telling him not to wait up as he’ll meet him by the airship in the morning. Waving off his curious eyebrow, he reminds him of his meeting with the Lord Commander - figuring he’d best check in at the Forgotten Knight as to not need to travel far. 

“Are you sure you’ll be alright making it there on your own?” Alphinaud asks.

“It’s broad daylight Alphy, and just because I don’t have my sword doesn’t mean I’m an invalid.” J’mhazi responds. Alphinaud colors and makes to retort before J’mhazi continues. “Remember, Ser Estinien is providing a watchful escort, as well.”

Alphinaud nods at that.

‘“Tomorrow then.” He says. J’mhazi nods and heads out.

* * *

Estinien is waiting just out of sight on the steps of The Last Vigil. He falls into step with him and they walk in a companionable silence.

“Thank you. I know Aymeric was worried but I’m sure you didn’t need to attend to me.” J’mhazi says, glancing at him.

The Dragoon grunts but he matches step all the same.

* * *

Estinien leads J’mhazi away from _The Order Of The Knights Most Heavenly_ , where he had thought they were headed. Instead, they walk out to a modestly sized manor near the edge of the Pillars. 

“Oh.” J’mhazi says, curious, as the doorman greets them.

The pair are invited into the quieter wing of the manor, and they pass by unused meeting rooms and bedrooms to arrive at what could only be the master suite. J’mhazi lets out a shaky breath.

Estinien places his hand low on J’mhazi’s back, applying just a hint of pressure.

J’mhazi shivers, his tail flicks back to press against Estinien’s leg.

Reaching over the other man, Estinien knocks twice on the door, firmly, keeping his other hand where it is. Lips curling up at the edges.

When the flutter in J’mhazi’s stomach feels about ready to overtake him, the door finally opens. Aymeric’s painfully beautiful face greets them as he swings it open and steps aside. He’s out of his normal armored attire and dressed down in black slacks trimmed with embroidery, and a pressed shirt in that deep royal blue he seems to favor. J’mhazi catches himself staring. Estinien presses gently at his back again and they both step inside.

Having never been in the Lord Commander’s home, let alone his personal chambers, he doesn’t know what to expect; J’mhazi is nervous. The pressure removes itself from his back as Estinien moves off to stow his lance and helm. 

J’mhazi wrings his hand together as he stands, absently, near to the entryway.

“I am full glad to see you.” Aymeric says in honeyed tones, smiling, as he envelopes J’mhazi’s hands with his own. He leans down to press his lips against J’mhazi’s temple.

“...at least take his coat, ‘Meric.” Estinien says, though he’s smiling when he returns to the entryway. The dragoon quickly divests him of his outer layer, eyeing the bruise on the man’s neck that is revealed, and he’s left with his suddenly too thin shirting and doublet.

“Oh well this _is_ nice.” Estinien whispers in J’mhazi’s ear, humming appreciatively before retreating with his coat. He flushes from his face down to open collar.

“Estinien _don’t tease him-_ “ Aymeric sighs. 

“Do you have anything to drink?” J’mhazi says quickly, throat dry and spine alight with nervous energy.

Aymeric nods and finally ushers them both the rest of the way in.

The entryway opens into a full sitting area, a roaring fire, and an enticingly ajar door on the far side.

J’mazi shuffles towards the glasses he can see on a shelf off to the left and grabs one for himself, and Estinien slips away past the door at the end of the room. Aymeric presses in close to pull a bottle off the shelf and uncorks it, quickly pouring amber liquid into the glass in his hands, then grabbing two more glasses and continuing to pour. 

“Thank you, Aymeric.” J’mhazi takes a careful sip and lets it burn delightfully down his throat.

“You’re tense.” Aymeric states.

“Mm.” J’mhazi takes another sip.

“Are you uncomfortable?”

J’mhazi shakes his head, smiling. “Gods no, I-” 

He cuts himself off as he hears a door quietly shut, and he watches Estinien pad over to join them. Armor removed, the man is now barefoot on the rugs and dressed down in a loose grey linen top tucked carelessly into slim dark pants. J’mhazi feels a hand slide around him to his front, fingers tracing idly on his doublet’s lacing. His breath hitches.

“A vision out of the armor, isn’t he?” 

“I had no idea…” J’mhazi murmurs as he takes another sip from his glass, stops a moment, then finishes the drink. Aymeric plucks the glass from J’mhazi’s hand, depositing it on a table to the side, before lifting and drinking from his own.

“What are you two conspiring about…” Estinien rumbles as he collects his own glass.

J’mhazi leans his head back against Aymeric’s chest; the hand returns to his abdomen and pulls him closer. His tail curls languidly around Aymeric’s waist.

“You.” J’mhazi breathes, staring. Aymeric smiles behind his glass as he watches the tips of the Dragoon’s ears redden, just slightly.

Estinien downs the liquid in the glass left for him and stalks over.

“...Me..?” The timbre of Estinien’s voice shakes something loose in J’mhazi’s brain and he reaches a hand forward, pausing just before making contact. Estinien steps forward the rest of the way, placing J’mhazi’s hand right on his chest. Eyes practically glowing with desire in the dim light, he’s caged in by Estinien as he bends to lay claim to his mouth.

Aymeric’s hand traces lower to stop at the waist of J’mhazi’s trousers. He lets out a breathy little sigh as he pulls away, fists clutching at Estinien’s shirt.

“Is this alright?” Aymeric whispers in his ear.

“ _Please, yes, I-_ “ 

Estinien’s hands are on the laces to his doublet before he can continue the thought.

Aymeric places his glass gently off to the side and reaches out to brush a lock of hair out of Estinien’s face. The look that greets him is hungry and determined as the Dragoon pulls the shirt open and slides it from J’mhazi’s shoulders to the floor.

Aymeric presses a kiss to the bruise on J’mhazi’s neck before locking eyes with Estinien. 

“Your handiwork, I presume?”

Estinien’s throat bobs in a rough swallow as he nods. “We’ve _talked_ , him and I.“

“Talked, hm? I find I very much like the look of this - and I’d like to see for myself what makes him _writhe_.”

J’mhazi lets out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding and it all but comes out in a gasp as both sets of hands are set upon him, enticing but brief.

“Follow me.” Aymeric murmurs close to J’mhazi’s ear, and he steps back and away towards the door at the back, drawing Estinien with him by a delicate hand on his jaw.

Face flushed red and wanting, J’mhazi follows after - taking a full minute and a couple of breaths to steel himself.

* * *

The lights are low when he enters the bedroom. It seems lavish and lived in at first glance but if he were to hazard a guess, J’mhazi would assume it rare that Aymeric ever made use of the room itself.

The sight that greets him makes his heart clench tightly in his ribs. Aymeric reclines back against the headboard, shirt opened, one hand buried in Estinien’s silver locks. The Dragoon himself is perched next to him, tracing fingers lightly on bruised flesh, just along the edge of a bandage that was previously hidden by clothing, kissing him gently. They part and Aymeric whispers something into his ear; Estinien turns.

J’mhazi makes it to the edge of the bed (somehow, focused on the two as he is) and he kicks off his boots and crawls up to join them, leaning back carefully onto his side.

“Aymeric, your wounds…” J’mhazi whispers.

The man smiles weakly. “Forgive me - I did not invite you here to fawn over me in turn, nor to worry you.” He says, though mostly for Estinien’s benefit. “I am on the mend, truly. To say I want you both here would be an understatement.”

“Regardless, I won’t have you straining anything, _Lord Commander-_ “ Estinien says gruffly as he shifts and helps to maneuver Aymeric more comfortably to the center of the bed. Aymeric huffs a laugh and pulls him down into a kiss.

J’mhazi curls closer at his other side, himself now eyeing the newly laid bandages, placing a protective hand across Aymeric as the kissing from his two companions blends into something more fiery and passionate. He watches Aymeric’s hand cradle Estinien’s nape, watches Estinien press a hand against Aymeric’s chest to hold him gently back as he tries to raise himself more upright.

“Stay where you are.” Estinien rasps out when they come up for air. “I want you right there.”

J’mhazi licks up the length of Aymeric’s neck before kissing his jaw and he _shudders_. 

Distracted, J’mhazi doesn’t catch Estinien before he grabs his hips to spin him around, facing forward, a pleased smirk dancing on his face.

Aymeric pulls J’mhazi back against him, warm skin pressing against his back, knees bent and framing him on either side.

“Relax, Mhazi.” Aymeric murmurs into his hairline.

J’mhazi all but whimpers as Estinien’s warm and calloused hands fall to his hips and give an experimental squeeze.

“Would that I could take you myself tonight-“ Aymeric murmurs, his hands leaving a trail of fire where they ghost along his skin. “But I think our Dragoon has made his claim very clear.”

Though there is a flush high on Estinien’s cheekbones, the look of hunger is unmistakable.

“Is that something you want?”

J’mhazi wets his lips with his tongue, and Estinien’s eyes follow the motion.

“ _Yes_.” J’mhazi breathes.

“Good.” Estinien grunts, grinning, as his hands slide to the lancing on J’mhazi’s trousers. He leans in to kiss the other man before finally tugging his pants loose and away.

“I’ll admit,” Estinien says, drawing a gasp from the man under him as he palms J’mhazi’s arousal overtop his smalls, “that I found you almost impossible to resist last night.”

“ _Hah-_ “ his breath catches in his chest as Estinien kisses his way down to a scar at his collarbone. “Wanted you to take me.” He says, fiercely. “I want you to-”

The Dragoon’s eyes flash dangerously as he slides further down, laying the flat of his tongue over a scar at the jut of J’mhazi’s hip. J’mhazi tenses and makes to reach for Estinien but Aymeric has other designs - he captures both his hands and and pulls them over his own shoulders.

“Mhazi...hold on to me, but watch him.” Aymeric says before lightly pressing his lips to J’mhazi’s neck. Cooler air hits his heated flesh as Estinien finally pulls him free of his smallclothes, discarding them somewhere else on the floor.

J’mhazi holds Estinien’s gaze for as long as he can.

Estinien, moving quickly, circles the base of J’mhazi’s length with his hand before licking a stripe up the underside and taking it fully into his mouth. J’mhazi’s hands tense into the fabric at Aymeric’s shoulders as he chokes back a moan. Estinien takes as much of it as he can into his mouth before pulling back and repeating the motion.

“Yes, perfect…” Aymeric practically purrs as he reaches forward to fist his hand into Estinien’s silver hair. He draws a moan from the Dragoon with a careful tug at the hair in his hand. J’mhazi’s legs shake with the strain of remaining still, fighting the urge to give in and chase the feeling. Estinien finds his rhythm, the slow up and down drag of his lips leaving J’mhazi teetering on the edge.

“F-fuck…” J’mhazi breathes out.

Aymeric encourages Estinien gently with his hand twisted in his long hair, dragging his nails along his scalp only to tighten his grip once more. Estinien moans around the cock in his mouth again and J’mhazi cries out, tossing his head back.

“Are you alright, love?” Aymeric asks as he releases Estinien’s hair to smooth a hand along the back of his neck. Estinien moves his own hand to roughly squeeze Aymeric’s thigh as he continues, slowing down further and hollowing out his cheeks. 

J’mhazi’s tail twists itself around the arm keeping his hip in place. 

“Estinien, _please-_ “ J’mhazi groans, his toes curling. “I’m going to-”

Swirling one last time over the head with his tongue, Estinien takes J’mhazi’s length fully into his mouth, deeper still, and _swallows_.

This drives J’mhazi to completion instantly, spilling down Estinien’s throat, hips stuttering as Aymeric rubs soothing circles against his ribs. J’mhazi turns and tucks his head against Aymeric’s neck, his arms and tail going lax and sliding from their grip, breath hitching as Estinien releases him from that _sinful_ mouth.

The Dragoon thumbs away the mess from the edge of his mouth that he missed with his tongue as he pulls back to marvel at his handiwork.

J’mhazi, warm tan skin flushed and hot, lay pliant and panting against Aymeric’s chest.

His arms now circling the other man, Aymeric stares up at Estinien with a barely contained desire in his icy gaze.

“Come here…” He says and Estinien obliges, propping himself up over the two on the bed.

“You look stunning with a cock in your mouth, you know-“ Aymeric murmurs as he brings their lips together. The corners of Estinien’s mouth twitch up into a semblance of a grin before he’s returning the kiss more forcefully, tongue sliding in to claim.

After a moment or two Estinien can feel a calloused hand reaching up underneath his shirt and playing along his ribs. He cracks an eye open to find J’mhazi watching him from his place against Aymeric’s neck.

“Why’r you still dressed?” J’mhazi huffs against the body he’s pressed to, pawing at the skin under Estinien’s shirt. “ _Both of you._ ”

“If the Warrior of Light wills it-“ Estinien says between breaths and stolen kisses as he quickly unfastens his shirt and discards it, Aymeric still demanding his attentions. J’mhazi flushes a deeper shade and drags his nails gently across Estinien’s chest before letting his hands fall lower to rest at the tie to the Dragoon’s trousers. 

“I do. But don’t, ah-” J’mhazi says after a moment, leaning forward to unravel the lacing with deft fingers. “Don’t call me that. Not here. Not from you.” Estinien breaks from Aymeric to lean his forehead against J’mhazi’s.

Aymeric lets his hands trail along the lightly scarred skin of J’mhazi’s back, and he glances back briefly when Aymeric traces across the new one at his side. 

“Help me with these-“ J’mhazi growls at Estinien as he tugs at the offending trousers before turning and gently bringing Aymeric’s hand to his own cheek. 

“Enough of that - they’ll be more where those came from, I’m sure.“ He smiles and carefully pulls Aymeric forward to relieve him too of his undone shirt. Glancing down as the shirt is removed, the smile falters just a bit.

J’mhazi tries not to make a noise, his brows pinching together, when the further extent of the bruising on Aymeric’s arms is revealed.

“Oh darling, I didn’t….” J’mhazi starts.

“Mhazi, please-“ Aymeric chides. “It’s just bruising. I’m afraid we’re all damaged goods.”

J’mhazi leans over him, planting his palms flat on the bed at Aymeric’s sides to lay a kiss on his lips and nuzzle against his neck. 

Between the three of them they manage to negotiate Aymeric’s trousers off his legs and off the bed as well.

Estinien, his trousers now also flung off to the side haphazardly, slides a hand up J’mhazi’s thigh over his ass, to rest low at his back. The Miqo'te gives a little shudder of interest, pressed as he is against Aymeric, exhaling slowly. Aymeric cards his fingers through his hair to reach the edge of a furred ear and J’mhazi sighs, tilting his head into the feeling.

The bed shifts subtly as Estinien leaves to rummage through a side table, retrieving a small bottle. He returns, hands roaming across his skin before he pauses to uncork the thing and J’mhazi shivers. 

Pouring slowly into his right hand, Estinien coats a few fingers before stopping the bottle and discarding it somewhere nearby on the bed. He wraps his other hand around the base of J’mhazi’s tail to tug lightly and the man groans, low and rumbling, arms nearly buckling.

As slicked, careful fingers circle his entrance, Aymeric’s hands find his face and stroke along his cheeks, his neck, his shoulders. J’mhazi opens his eyes to Aymeric’s look of raw longing and heat just as Estinien slips a finger into him. J’mhazi gasps, immediately pleading for more.

More movement, more pressure, more _feeling_ \- Estinien curls the digit and presses another into him with the same motion, and J’mhazi’s eyes flutter closed again as he attempts to relax.

“Gods-” J’mhazi manages to choke out as Estinien gives another sharp tug at his tail, the furred appendage twitching and seeking to wrap around the other man.

“You’re so tense…” Estinien murmurs behind him, adjusting his angle just enough to glance against the spot inside that sets a fire in the pit of J’mhazi’s stomach. Aymeric leans in to devour the moan that slips free as Estinien works him open, scissoring his fingers. A third finger, more oil, and J’mhazi is a trembling mess, barely able to hold himself upright. 

“ _Please-_ ” J’mhazi groans, parting from Aymeric.

Estinien withdraws his hand and slicks his own cock generously before aligning his length with J’mhazi’s hole. Slowly, he presses in, ilm by ilm, until he’s hilted and then stills. Blood singing with the feeling, he exhales roughly, trying to maintain his composure.

“Haah-” J’mhazi reaches back and grabs one of Estinien’s hips. “Give me a moment and then you can move.” 

Estinien can feel the other man clench around him and it takes every ounce of control he has to remain still, so he turns his attentions to J’mhazi’s back. A line of tension from his tail to his neck, Estinien smoothes a hand up his spine almost gently and his breathing calms, relaxing. 

Aymeric strokes J’mhazi’s jaw from his recline against the headboard.

“Are you alright?” Aymeric asks.

“Mm, more than.” J’mhazi replies breathlessly with a sly smile, eyes half lidded.

And Estinien starts to move.

Grip almost to bruising, he starts slow but quickly works up to sharp thrusts that J’mhazi tries to match, pushing back against him. They find a rhythm together and J’mhazi shudders as Estinien finds the perfect angle to have him seeing stars. Estinien bites down hard on the meat of J’mhazi’s shoulder before soothing the angry red mark with his tongue. 

“Darling-” J’mhazi breathes when he finds his words again, stroking his hand down Aymeric’s side. “Want you to come with us…’m not going to last.” 

“You don’t need to see to my pleasure-” Aymeric says quietly, watching with a dark heat blooming in his gaze all over again. 

“Mm - _want to_.” It comes out as a moan on a particularly hard thrust and Aymeric looks up to see Estinien watching the exchange hungrily. He rolls his hips again, gently this time, and J’mhazi reaches for Aymeric’s length, stiff with neglect, his warm hand wrapping around it.

Aymeric lets out a small breath and lets his hands fall to J’mhazi’s shoulders.

J’mhazi lowers himself carefully to his elbows, nipping at the skin on Aymeric’s thigh when Estinien thrusts forward again. “ _Ah_ \- I want you to use me, okay?” J’mhazi says, looking up while stroking Aymeric’s length carefully once. “I’ll let you know if there’s a problem, but this...I want this.”

Aymeric’s jaw works soundlessly for a moment before he nods.

J’mhazi turns his head slightly.

“I don’t want to think any more. I need… I need-”

Estinien rocks his hips forward slowly as he carefully strokes a line up J’mhazi’s back with his hand.

“ _I’ve got you_.” He says, quiet but strong. 

J’mhazi turns back to slide Aymeric’s length into his mouth and lets Estinien’s next push forward send it deeper. J’mhazi keeps one hand low on Aymeric’s abdomen to keep him still and one arm bent at the elbow to help keep his weight off. 

“By the _Fury, Mhazi-''_ Aymeric says it like a benediction, hands automatically curling around the base of J’mhazi’s neck. “ _Halone help me._ ” He lets his head fall back to rest against the headboard.

“I’m going to move again, J’mhazi.” Estinien rumbles from above him, and he does.

The pace set is calmer, more deliberate, and a pleasant fire builds steadily up again low in J’mhazi’s belly from this angle. The burn from the stretch at his jaw is a small price to pay for the noises he’s coaxing from Aymeric.

Flush high on his cheekbones, hands tangled in hair, Aymeric rapidly loses composure. Huffs of breath turn to gasps; Estinien’s thrusts grow harder as he chases his own growing need, pushing J’mhazi to take Aymeric’s length further. Almost choking, losing breath, J’mhazi’s eyes water - but it feels _good._

Estinien bends over as he thrusts again to whisper in J’mhazi’s ear and the man moans around Aymeric’s cock, sending vibrations rippling through them both. 

Aymeric comes apart with a weak shout and pulls J’mhazi from him and up, watching as he licks his lips lasciviously, swallowing, taking a deep breath in.

“Gods, Mhazi.” Aymeric says wondrously, and he leans in to kiss swollen lips, tasting himself. Looking at Estinien, then, “Take care of him, love, _please_.”

Aymeric strokes the side of J’mhazi’s face as Estinien reaches a hand around to fist his length and strokes in time with his thrusts. It isn’t long before J’mhazi keens, back arching sharply, giving up completely on remaining upright. His ears fold back and Aymeric wraps his arms around him to hold him steady as he collapses down, spilling his climax on the blankets below.

With the heat clenching around him, a few short thrusts has Estinien following, hand clamped on the jut of J’mhazi’s hip, nails almost pricking the skin.

Estinien pulls carefully out with a wince after catching his breath, and J’mhazi slides bonelessly to his side, barely present. He leans over him and presses a kiss to J’mhazi’s cheek before whispering quietly to him as he pulls away and to the wash. 

“ _I’ve got you…_ ”

* * *

J’mhazi lets himself be moved, managed, as he drifts in the haze of the afterglow.

Blankets are exchanged, towels are grabbed from the wash and he manages somehow to blindly clean himself before giving up.

He’s under warm bedding before he realizes it, pressed up against a warm body, hearing the two Elezen speak in quiet tones. He breathes in - Estinien? 

J’mhazi wraps his arms around the other man's middle and buries his face where neck meets shoulder and the hushed talking around him pauses momentarily.

“Don’t stop on my account.” He mumbles out. Estinien rests his hand on J’mhazi’s back.

“So, you’ve returned?”

“Mm, for the moment.”

Aymeric smiles, pressing closer at his back. “I was just convincing our Dragoon to stay.”

J’mhazi pulls his arms tighter around, tension gripping his form.

“...Please stay.” He whispers against Estinien’s neck. “Don’t leave.”

“Alright, alright.” Estinien murmurs into a furred ear. “But only because I cannot detangle myself from you without making a scene.” He grunts, tossing an arm around Aymeric as he settles in. 

* * *

J’mhazi wakes an indeterminate amount of time later, warm, cradled between two people he’s grown to care for. The thought itself briefly sets him to panic and there’s an ache in his chest that won’t settle. That he can’t name. That safety should feel like dread isn’t _fair_.

He tries valiantly to fight the feeling but it rises up in him like bile. Shaking, he removes himself from the bed, disturbing as little as possible, re-laying the covers as he goes. Aymeric sighs softly at the loss of his form, in sleep, but the two remaining in the bed soon find each other.

J’mhazi collects his smalls and trousers, pulling them on haphazardly before tiptoeing out to the living area, closing the door quietly behind him. He winces at the lingering soreness in him; dull aches bringing heat to his face unbidden as he plays over the night’s events. 

The fire had burned low, but not completely out while they slept. J’mhazi chooses a few smaller wood pieces to get it going again and places them gently on top before turning to look for his old glass in the dim light. 

He finds it, and pours another drink before sitting on the mostly unused couch and quietly tending to the hearth. The peaceful crackle of the fire is soothing in its distraction.

J’mhazi nurses his drink in an almost meditative stillness as the fire builds up once more, emptying his mind as best he can. Staring through the fire, spreading his fingers out against the cushioning under him, making himself as still as possible. He doesn’t hear the soft footsteps meandering towards him from the bedroom.

“I shouldn’t be able to sneak so close, little Warrior.” Estinien says quietly, leaning over the back of the couch. J’mhazi startles before turning to regard him; His own lithe form covered only in his smalls and an unbuttoned shirt.

“...No, I suppose you shouldn’t.” He agrees. Frowning, he finishes what’s left of his drink, placing the glass off on a small table to the side. He turns away again and Estinien leans in as if to prompt for more. 

“My Blessing… it’s been sealed from me. _Mother_ has been clawing her way back but,” he drags a hand roughly down his face, “maybe if I had been at full strength, none of this…” J’mhazi’s voice catches and he chooses instead to rise and place another log onto the fire.

Estinien rounds the couch to bring himself to where J’mhazi stands.

“J’mhazi, look at me.” Estinien says, voice rough with the edges of sleep, but with a care he wasn’t sure he was capable of any longer.

J’mhazi does look, after a moment.

“That you are expected to bear the weight where others would have long since buckled...” Estinien starts.

“It’s only me...There is only me.” J’mhazi says plainly, looking up at him. “What choice do I have?”

“You’ve given enough.” Estinien grunts. “Don’t give over to guilt and despair as well.” He strokes his hand along the side of J’mhazi’s face to rest at his neck. “...Come back to bed and _sleep_ , little Warrior. You’re going to need your strength for tomorrow.” 

“Ok.” J’mhazi nods, face warming at the endearment he thought he imagined. He leans in to the hand. “Alright.”

“Good.” Estinien huffs, as he turns to lead them both quietly back to their sleeping third.

J’mhazi shucks off his pants once more. At Estinien’s urging he reclaims his place in the center with Estinien slotting himself in behind, tossing his own shirt to the side.

He nudges J’mhazi, still coiled with tension.

“Tomorrow you’ll need to be sharp; you can be softer here.” Estinien places a hand gently on his flank and J’mhazi’s breath hitches. He buries his face gently against Aymeric’s chest and pulls himself close.

Estinien allows a small smile despite himself. But as he does he feels the pulse of dark aether from The Eye and he has to grit his teeth against the call.

The seething rage would take this from him too, then?

So be it, but not here. Not tonight.

Estinien lets his blood grow hot and angry even as he rubs his hand soothingly against the other man’s side, pressing a light kiss to the back of J’mhazi’s neck and willing him to sleep. Listening to him breathe in, then out.

Then he pinches out every fragment of affection he holds and lets fury overtake him, until he tires completely and rest finds him, as well.

* * *

Estinien flees the bed as soon as he awakens to start collecting his affairs. He can allow nothing further. He casts another look over the two sleeping forms of his… what? Lovers?

Best not to give it a name. He shakes his head and picks through the clothing strewn about before heading to wash up.

* * *

J’mhazi blearily opens his eyes to the feeling of a hand stroking through his hair, so gentle, he could almost be dreaming it. He lets his tail swish pleasantly under the covers and he noses his way up Aymeric’s neck, earning him a breathy chuckle.

“I’m sorry to wake you, dearest, but our early riser seems to think you need to depart soon.”

J’mhazi sighs against Aymeric’s neck, just breathing, before he reluctantly unwinds himself and sits up with a groan. Hair mussed and dark circles under his eyes, the burden of duty settles heavy on his shoulders once more and it takes longer than he means to snap back to something resembling a smile.

Aymeric does not miss the somber awakening.

“Mhazi, what is troubling you?” He asks, rising himself, a frown worrying his face.

J’mhazi cuts off the line of questioning by pressing his lips to Aymeric’s, smiling sheepishly when he’s pushed away gently.

“I’m being serious.” Aymeric says.

“...It’s difficult.” J’mhazi starts, visibly deflating as he does. “Waking from something that should by all rights have been a dream. I don’t want to go.” He smiles, but it’s a thin and forced thing.

Aymeric opens his mouth to speak, brows furrowing, but J’mhazi kisses him again.

“Just a moment of weakness, nothing more. Let’s get up - we’ve got places to be.” And the Warrior of Light dons his armor.

* * *

Ysayle falls.

Estinien does not look at J’mhazi’s stricken face as he desperately tries to fling himself from the railing of the ship after Ysayle as she does.

Biggs grabs the man before he has to intervene, thank the Fury, but gods was it hard not to reach for him. Estinien’s hands tremble before clenching into fists at his side.

Saying goodbye to Iceheart in his own way is the last bit of softness Estinien can allow. He can still feel The Eye calling to him, praying that what that Sharlayan witch said wasn’t possible, but guarding himself against it all the same. As he had been, as he must continue to do.

* * *

J’mhazi schools himself well enough as they land. If vacant is something that can pass for ‘well enough’. No one bothers to ask. Rarely do they ever. Estinien can see the tremor of grief plainly on his face. He knows where to look for it now - he can’t tell whether the others don’t or choose not to.

Fighting the urge to spear the cursed nodes and be done with it, they press on through the quadrants.

* * *

“Take it-“ Estinien shouts, holding out The Eye, red and angry. ‘“We’ll hold them here.”

“Estinien, I-“ 

“ _Go,_ J’mhazi _._ Finish this. I’ll be along as soon as I can.”

J’mhazi takes the Eye reluctantly, and runs towards the teleporter.

“I’m counting on you… Keep them safe.” He shouts and sees Estinien nod before he vanishes into thin air.

* * *

The research facility felt endless. Massive, full of untold horrors.

Dogged by Regula, Imperials hot on his trail, J’mhazi fights bitterly through the loosed experiments.

Fire, Ice, both in equal measure until finally, _finally_ he has them routed. Cornered. Now the Asians can feel what he has felt. The fear that gripped him as immortal threats toyed with his life. 

Fleeing would not be acceptable, not this time. Igeyorhm is trapped in white auracite and shattered with the overwhelming power of The Eye. J’mhazi can feel it gnawing at him and he does his best not to dwell on what that means.

Igeyorhm’s scream shatters something in J’mhazi, too, and he’s staggered a moment, blinking rapidly against the overwhelming sense of _loss._

The other; Lahabrea, the puppet master, is clumsy with shock and misses his own chance to flee as Thordan and his knights trap them both in, coffin in tow.

Lahabrea balks in betrayal and confusion as he is consumed - the power of the other Eye is drawn upon. The other Eye….wedged in Haldrath’s corpse where it had lain in that coffin since Ishgard’s inception.

Aether crackles; the hair on J’mhazi’s skin raises and he stares in mute horror as the Knights Twelve rise to their full strength and Thordan is reborn in his ‘true’ image.

Men conflate themselves with gods every day, but Nidhogg’s Eyes deigned to grant it on this one. J’mhazi clutches the one in his grasp close to his chest as it whispers its own dark secrets and promises. 

What he could be if he just gave over to it.

He stows it carefully and draws his sword, calling on all the strength he has left, eyes forward.

* * *

In the end, a crumpled old man beats his fist against the unyielding floor of the facility.

Gone are his knights; Consumed by the madness that made them.

J’mhazi draws himself to full height and stalks forward. He can see the fear in the dying man’s eyes as he babbles on about what should have been. What righteousness his fight held.

There is no thrill of victory, no justice for Haurchefaunt. These men were tempered by a Primal they were too small to understand.

Thordan breathes his last and J’mhazi lets himself collapse onto his knees, staring at his body, then the coffin they brought. Haldrath’s perfectly preserved corpse.

Plated footsteps announce Estinien’s arrival and he scuttles to a stop nearby.

“Is it done, then?” Estinien asks, echoing loudly in the open space of the domed facility. 

J’mhazi smiles weakly up at him and nods. 

“It’s over.” He replies, sounding a thousand malms away and exhausted. Estinien helps him to his feet. J’mhazi produces The Eye once more. 

“It helped slay an Ascian, thank you.” And J’mhazi holds it over, even as a small flash of doubt centers deep in his chest. 

Estinien takes it in one hand and stares at it.

“Are you alright?” J’mhazi asks, quietly.

Estinien does not answer, but turns instead towards Thordan’s body, then the coffin.

“I would have liked to have been here to slay him myself, but…” his words are cut short as he spies the other Eye in the coffin. “ _By The Fury, is that…_ ”

“Estinien, wait-“ J’mhazi reaches out a hand but the Dragoon reaches in towards the Eye’s twin and pulls it free from Haldrath’s body. 

“Estinien-?“ J’mhazi says, with a frantic edge to his voice as the man’s body goes rigid, lips pulling back into a snarl. J’mhazi makes contact with his arm and is thrown back violently off his feet to the facility flooring.

The last glimpse he sees of Estinien the man is his back in a crooked arch as he’s warped beyond all recognition into the Wyrm who should be long dead. 

“No..” The world slipped out unbidden, _useless_ , as the Wyrm roared his fury - promised his revenge. And then he was gone.

* * *

Midgardsormer’s booming voice beside him almost causes J’mhazi to lash out, but as he stares at the collapsing dome he steels himself and accepts the dragon’s final judgement and his assistance.

After all, what choice did he have?

* * *

Nearing Ishgard, dread coiled it’s way into his chest. 

The victory was hollow. Ishgard was spared a worse fate but there was so much work to be done and Estinien…

He wasn’t fast enough, and he lost him. 

J’mhazi’s hands tighten reflexively on the handles of the saddle. This wasn’t supposed to happen. 

_You’ve given enough. Don’t give over to guilt and despair as well._

He hangs his head as they touch ground and puts on the bravest face he can muster.

* * *

_“Where is Estinien…?”_

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're here! you've read my extremely self-indulgent npc/wol dumpster fire, and I love you.
> 
> I wrote middle -> out for this and rewrote like, 3/4 of it, and if the sex seems wild for a first time it's cause Mhazi is just Like That(tm) and also it was fun to write :^)
> 
> I've already started like.. 2 more snippety things so I'm deep in this i guess.
> 
> If you're of the writing persuasion or generally just love reading final fantasy xiv fics, come and join usssss in the discorrrrrd:
> 
> [Emet-Selch's Wholesomely Debauched and Enabling Book Club](https://discord.gg/4gUTQta)
> 
> Can't overstate how lovely and supportive everyone is.


	3. Misery, Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“The relief I feel returning and seeing you feels like a betrayal.” J’mhazi whispers, eyes closed. “It always does, to everyone I’ve lost - that I’ve wronged.”_
> 
> _Aymeric kisses his forehead, then down the scar between his brows, feather-light._
> 
> _“You aren’t at fault for the machinations of a dragon, nor the choices of our wayward and lost Dragoon.” Aymeric says, albeit a bit sadly._
> 
> _J’mhazi tilts his face up to capture the Lord Commander’s lips in a kiss of his own. Needy, desperate, indelicate. Teeth graze along a bottom lip, J’mhazi threads his hands roughly through Aymeric’s hair, pressing himself as near as he can, straining closer, closer. Between their armor it’s not close enough, not close enough at all._  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is some (kinda, sorta) improper aftercare here, lots of sex so uh, if you want to skip around it's the big section in the middle starting with the dialogue “I want…” and ending with 'dousing the light.'
> 
> Guess we're seeing this through to the end of the Dragonsong war!
> 
> It's still a bit angsty but like, that was Heavensward's post msq patches right? fhjsdkhfjk I promise there's a point to it (or at least it won't stay that way in the end).

* * *

To say that he fled after landing with Midgardsormr would be apt.

J’mhazi took his leave immediately after the Father of Dragons made his proclamation - made the truth of his own terrible failure known. Estinien was gone. 

While the Lord Commander’s retinue was busy excitedly chatting about their nation’s next steps, J’mhazi was already well on his way out of the landing and towards The Pillars, much to the confusion of his companions.

Aymeric glanced towards his retreating back, sadness and guilt and a myriad number of other emotions twisting around in his gut.

At Y’shtola’s concerned murmur to Alphinaud, Aymeric looks back once more and nods to Lucia following quickly after the Warrior of Light.

* * *

“Warrior of Light! A moment-” Not quite shouting, Aymeric does his best to catch up, to catch J’mhazi’s attention, but he trudged on through the cold streets without an acknowledgement, facing forward. His ears all but disappearing into his hair.

“Mhazi, _wait-_ ” He calls again, finally reaching his back and getting a hand around his forearm.

J’mhazi raises it, he contemplates tearing it angrily out of Aymeric’s grasp, but when he turns to look at him…

When he looks at him, face stricken in a way that mirrors his own, it saps all the anger and self-loathing he was using to propel himself forward and he all but sags. Shoulders drop and head hanging low, he breathes out in a lengthy exhale. Both of Aymeric’s hands move to rest on his shoulders.

“I wish to speak with you - Come with me. _Don’t run_.” Aymeric pleads, whispering the last words.

J’mhazi glances around, and while not crowded, the streets do have people milling about and the Lord Commander is starting to attract attention in the middle of the plaza.

“Yes, alright.” J’mhazi says, clearing his throat. “Lead the way.”

* * *

The pair walk wordlessly to the Seat of the Lord Commander.

Aymeric asks his door watchman for privacy, time, space, _whatever_. To mourn, perhaps, he thinks darkly to himself. He hardly recalls what was said. The thin veneer of leadership cracking under the weight of the loss, keenly felt.

J’mhazi is a silent presence beside him. A shadow. 

Up the lift and behind the closed doors of his office, Aymeric turns and takes J’mhazi’s hand.

“I am relieved that you are returned to me.” He says, smiling a bit sadly, silhouetted by the quiet fire that was tended in his absence. “That my father would be foolish enough to summon a primal into himself is almost beyond belief-”

“Aymeric, I…” 

“Don’t, Mhazi, please-” 

“He was _right there_ -” J’mhazi chokes out, hanging his head and pulling his hand away. “And I failed him so completely, I-”

“Stop.” Aymeric throws the word out hard, crowds into J’mhazi’s space and takes his jaw carefully in his hands. He’s careful, almost reverent, like he’s afraid of something. 

“ _Please_ …” Aymeric begs, then bends to rest his forehead against J’mhazi’s.

J’mhazi grips one of Aymeric’s wrists and leans in towards him, grabbing his waist, keeping him close.

“The relief I feel returning and seeing you feels like a betrayal.” J’mhazi whispers, eyes closed. “It always does, to everyone I’ve lost - that I’ve wronged.” 

Aymeric kisses his forehead, then down the scar between his brows, feather-light. 

“You aren’t at fault for the machinations of a dragon, nor the choices of our lost and wayward Dragoon.” Aymeric says, albeit a bit sadly.

J’mhazi tilts his face up to capture the Lord Commander’s lips in a kiss of his own. Needy, desperate, indelicate. Teeth graze along a bottom lip, J’mhazi threads his hands roughly through Aymeric’s hair, pressing himself as near as he can, straining closer, _closer._ Between their armor it’s not close enough, not close enough at all.

Forgetting himself and the ordeal that’s robbed him of his strength, J’mhazi falters, knees buckling. He frantically reaches out for the large desk nearby but he’s held up in strong arms instead. 

“You’re exhausted.” Aymeric murmurs, holding J’mhazi upright. 

He gets his legs straightened and recovers, swaying only slightly, tilting his head to the side.

  
  
“I don’t suppose I can order you to bedrest, can I?” Aymeric says with a coy smile. J’mhazi considers.

“...Do it, please...darling, yes.” J’mhazi says with half-closed eyes as he reaches up, pulling the other man down to mouth along his jaw.

Aymeric blinks slowly. “Then... I _order_ you to bedrest, effective immediately, until such time as I find you fit for duty.” He says, quietly, adding: “I want you to go to Borel Manor. I can trust you won’t be disturbed there and I will meet you anon, once I wrap up a few loose ends here.” 

“Meetings?” J’mhazi perks up. “Do you need me to atte-”

“No. I need you to _go_ .” Aymeric says, firmly. “ _Let me do this for you_. Promise you’ll take out your linkpearl once you’ve assuaged your companions.” J’mhazi nods mutely after a moment.

Aymeric walks the Warrior of Light, fading as he is, to the entrance of the Congregation and ushers him away with whispered promises to meet soon.

* * *

J’mhazi is let into Borel Manor and treated like an honored guest; fussed over and attended to. After a small bite to eat (that the staff were more than happy to prepare, _given that no one ever seemed to eat around here_ , Mistress Alanna gripes) J’mhazi found himself in the master suite again.  
  
A small fire was already burning in the hearth here as well, and the room still looked hardly touched. 

It still sent a pang of hurt through his chest to be here.

Even if it was a little game they were playing, his ‘orders’ made it easier to not want to pack up and run. He starts unfastening his armor when he gets a ping on his linkpearl.

“Mm?” He mutters, answering.

“J’mhazi - are you…. Are you alright? You left rather suddenly.”

“Fine, Alphy...” J’mhazi says, kicking off a boot. “I just need some time. Can you give me that? Before we have to rush off again?”

“O-of course. Whatever you need.” He sounds hurt. J’mhazi sighs.

“I’m sorry, look, we’ll talk later, alright?”

“Certainly.” Alphinaud replies. “Get some rest, my friend.”

“Mm-hm.” He mumbles as he disconnects and pulls the thing out of his ear and leaves it on the mantle above the fireplace.

Sliding his whole hand down his face, he finishes prying off his armor, damaged and dirty as it is, and he kicks it into the corner of the room. His whole body aches. He looks to the wash and peers inside to the large shower and bathtub. Peeling off his armor-padding, leggings, and smalls; He doesn’t have to wait long for the water to warm before he steps into the stream and washes up.

* * *

Once clean and dried, J’mhazi tiredly rifles through drawers in the bedroom until he finds something he’s not completely swimming in, promising to himself to beg apologies from the Lord of the Manor whenever he arrives.

J’mhazi uncomfortably stands in the center of the room and fidgets with the sleeve of the too-large tunic he’d chosen. He brings the collar up to his nose and breathes in. Vanilla and sandalwood, old paper. Heat rises to his cheeks unbidden as he drags his nail along a seam at the cuff. Shaking his head, he throws back the heavy blankets on the bed and gingerly tucks himself in, feeling small.

He pulls the blanket up around him, curls into the pillows and it still smells like _them._ Time passing, new sheets, different soap - it didn’t seem to matter. 

With twinned feelings of guilt and want, he shuts his eyes and buries his face into a pillow.

* * *

_I’m sure he’ll contact you when he’s ready to depart._

While not a lie, Aymeric did not want to make a habit of speaking on J’mhazi’s behalf, but this was an exception. They were to be leaving for Dravania with Lucia at his behest, after all, and he wasn’t going to send them off until J’mhazi was ready. Until he was alright.

Until he was ready to let him go.

Aymeric sat, lone, unmoving in his offices until he was startled out of his stupor by a knock at the door. 

Beckoning the visitor in without looking up, Lucia strides up to his desk.

“My Lord,” she greets him, warily, “...Your thoughts are elsewhere - is there...Can I help you?” Her brows are drawn together tightly, almost shifting the circlet on her forehead. 

Aymeric opens his mouth to deny it, but he stops himself.

“Lucia,” He starts. “Would you...take care of things here for me this evening and tomorrow. I… Please send any urgent missives to the Manor for me.” 

She breathes a sigh of relief. “Of course, My Lord.” A salute, fist over chest.

He smiles at her, stands, collecting a few papers before a hand gently stops him.

“ _Go_.” She says.

Nodding, he slips out of the _Congregation_ and towards his home.

* * *

J’mhazi was asleep when Aymeric stepped quietly into his chambers. Hidden in the covers so only his ears were visible, twitching softly. Aymeric has to battle with himself not to touch.

He doffs his armor in the hall (somewhat clumsily without aid) and stores it on the rack where it’s meant to be stored, _for once_. Strips, washes quickly and dries, then pulls a clean shirt and smallclothes over himself before standing in front of the fire.

J’mhazi had left his things strewn about the suite, though he did seem to have made an attempt to corral his armor into a corner. Spying the linkshell on the mantle, Aymeric takes it and brings it with him to the bedroom, placing it in reach of the bed. Just in case. 

He crawls in beside the smaller man, still sleeping soundly, and wraps his arms protectively around him. Slowly, not looking to wake him. The evening is upon them and they’ve nowhere to be, at least for now. Aymeric lets himself bask in the feeling of him in his arms and tries not to think about the one now missing as he lies awake.

* * *

J’mhazi is roused from sleep gently, a calloused hand on his forehead, warm.

Sleep pulls heavy on his eyelids, even still, and he turns sluggishly to bury himself against the man next to him.

“Mhazi, I’m sorry - you were whimpering, I couldn’t bear it.” Aymeric murmurs, nudging him gently. “A nightmare?”

“Not sure..?” J’mhazi says, genuinely disoriented. The room was still dark. He rolls again onto his back and tosses an arm over his eyes. “I can’t remember any of it.” 

Aymeric clicks on one of the oiled lamps before lying back on his side, head propped up in his arm and simply watches, waiting.

J’mhazi scrunches up his face before removing his arm and turning his head.

“It hurts, though.” J’mhazi says, after a moment, “I don’t care to know what it was.” 

Aymeric brings his hand up to rest on J’mhazi’s face, stroking his thumb across his cheek. 

“I’m here. You can sleep again if you’re still tired.”

“...Kiss me?” J’mhazi whispers, turning in towards the touch, tangling their legs together. 

“Are you sure you’re alright-?'' Aymeric asks, his mouth slipping open slightly as J’mhazi begins to ghost kisses, feather light, along his outstretched palm and wrist.

“Of course I’m not alright…” 

Aymeric’s hand slows, preparing to pull away. 

“But I want you close, closer - anything you’ll give me.” J’mhazi says, all in a rush. “I’m hurting, and I can only imagine you are too, and I-” His voice catches, only for a moment, and he takes a deep breath in. “I want to know what you want, darling, tell me?”

“I want…” Aymeric murmurs, hand sliding down along shoulder, back, hip. “What I _want-_ ” He swallows roughly with a throat that’s suddenly too dry. “-Is to take you apart, Mhazi.”

“Please,” He breathes, a flush reddening his cheeks, “that’s all I want...all I want.” J’mhazi crawls over Aymeric and he leans down, pushing the Lord Commander to his back, closing his mouth over willing lips. One hand clenched tightly into Aymeric’s shirt collar; a desperate gesture.

Aymeric grabs J’mhazi’s thigh, shifting the smaller man so J’mhazi is straddling his hips. 

“Show me, _take me apart_ .” J’mhazi rasps, nothing but Aymeric’s own smallclothes between them as he rubs his length against a matching hardness. Aymeric’s cock twitches at the attention and he _groans_. 

J’mhazi paws at Aymeric’s chest with his hand, flexing his fingers, the other hand still clenched in the collar of a silken shirt.

The hand on his thigh slides up, thumb kneading into the sensitive muscle at J’mhazi’s hip. Aymeric’s other hand finds his back, low, at the base of his tail. His hips stutter forward as he lets out an aborted breath. They grind against each other again; his mouth falls open and his eyes flutter closed.

Aymeric surges up and off his back to meet him. He raises J’mhazi’s arms both and Aymeric practically tears the tunic up and away. Kneeling with him in his lap, bared completely and held close, Aymeric cups J’mhazi’s jaw until he opens his eyes once more. 

“I’m going to be demanding of you.” Aymeric says, sliding his other hand down to fist lazily around J’mhazi’s cock. “And I don’t want you to hold anything back - I promise I’ll piece you back together with the same devotion, I swear it.” 

Aymeric searches his eyes for hesitation, anything, and finds nothing but heat and raw longing as he gently draws his lip between his teeth. 

“...What are you waiting for.” J’mhazi says, rocking his hips into Aymerics hand, wrapping his arms around his neck and drawing him into a searing kiss. Aymeric’s grip tightens but his pace slows, breaking the kiss to draw away and watch with shuttered eyes. Flushed, mouth open in want, the man looks half lost to pleasure before they’ve so much as started.

Trembling, J’mhazi is shaken when Aymeric releases him onto the bed in favor of rummaging around in the dresser at the bedside. Panting softly with his knees spread open _just_ enough to allow his length to bob free, J’mhazi grips his thighs and tries to regain his composure; his tail swishing erratically behind him.

Watching Aymeric’s lean stretch as he wrestles with the drawer, he shifts to move - to touch. The bed creaks.

“Stay-“ The softly spoken command comes over Aymeric’s shoulder and their eyes meet. Icy blue almost lost to black pupils. J’mhazi stills and settles back, fidgeting.

Aymeric gets his hand around the oil bottle and pulls it free, tossing it to the bed next to J’mhazi’s knee.

Shuffling back he slides his hands under J’mhazi’s thighs and gently lifts him forward, so he’s not quite straddling his thigh. J’mhazi instantly curls his hands around Aymeric’s neck, doing his best not to give in and rub himself against him.

Aymeric unstops the small bottle and pours the oil over his fingers without looking away from J’mhazi’s face.

Coated and slick, he moves his hand. J’mhazi’s entire focus centers on the feeling of Aymeric slowly, _carefully,_ pressing into the tight circle. He leans forward fully onto Aymeric’s chest and tears at his shirt, resting his chin on his shoulder as Aymeric’s other hand threads through his hair.

“Please, please, ah, please…” J’mhazi bites at a clothed shoulder, caught between rutting forward onto Aymeric’s thigh and rocking down onto the torturously slow movement of one, then two fingers as they slide, and pull, and tease into him, the easy pace driving him to madness.

“Ah-!” He chokes out as Aymeric glances against the bundle of nerves deep inside. 

“Yes…” Aymeric murmurs into an ear. “Let me have all of it. All of you.” 

Murmuring into Aymeric’s shoulder, he practically shouts when the fingers press firmer still and _stroke_. Fingers stretching against his inner walls with no real hurry, always returning to that spot to send a spark of pleasure ripping through him unpredictably. 

Aymeric slides his other hand down to the base of J’mhazi’s tail. His thumb rubs a slow line along the sensitive juncture and J’mhazi keens, gripping tightly as he climaxes, dry, and shaking.

“Good, good.” Aymeric says lowly, withdrawing his hand, continuing to massage the spot at the base of his tail. J’mhazi shivers in his arms. Leaning forward, Aymeric lowers them both to the mattress, trailing his lips down sweat-slicked skin. Giving him a moment to breathe.

Aymeric nips at his clavicle before he trails lower. Brushing a thumb across a nipple as he laves at the other. Lower, lower... Aymeric seizes a leg and lifts it over his shoulder, biting into the tender flesh at J’mhazi’s thigh, drawing a gasp.

J’mhazi twitches to attention again, half-hard, and Aymeric has to pause to palm himself roughly over his smalls for some relief of his own before bringing his mouth to what he really wants; his prize. Closing his lips over the side of J’mhazi’s length, he licks a stripe down to the base before taking a delicate sack into the wet heat of his mouth.

“Aymeric..” J’mhazi runs his hands through dark hair, breathless.

Aymeric pins his hips to bed with an arm before his fingers begin circling his hole slowly, teasing. J’mhazi’s hips stutter and he trembles. As two easily slip inside again he tosses his head to the side and shouts a curse. A prayer to the Twelve. Something profane. 

Goaded on by the sharp rise and fall of J’mhazi’s chest, the moans, the grip on his hair, he adjusts and takes J’mhazi’s length into his mouth, humming at the sinful groan let out past clenched teeth. 

J’mhazi’s toes curl and he clenches around the fingers working at filling him. Aymeric sucks, hard, as he curls his fingers inside; stroking again, and again and _again-_

J’mhazi shouts in surprise as he comes once more, eyes rolling back in his head, trying to catch his breath.

Aymeric swallows it gracefully, somehow, before moving up J’mhazi’s chest.

“..Mhazi, can you tell me where you are?” He says roughly, smiling, hair completely mussed. 

“Ah...Ishgard. Your bed.” J’mhazi pants, eyes glazed.

“Mm, try again.” Aymeric says, kissing along his jaw. J’mhazi blinks, clearer.

“Borel Manor - Aymeric, darling, I-” 

“Shh, just wanted to be sure.” He says before kissing him deeply, stealing his breath, licking into his mouth past any defences he might have had that remained. Making him taste himself - sharing in it. 

Aymeric holds himself over J’mhazi, staring down at him in adoration, gathering and pinning both wrists above his head. That Aymeric has the trust of the most powerful man he’s ever known, pinned in his bed.... J’mhazi could free himself in an instant but he _wants_ to be at his mercy. It’s enough to drive him mad.

“...There’s one more thing I need you to do for me.” He says, voice raspy and full of a desperate want. 

“Anything-” J’mhazi breathes, staring up, straining against his hold _just_ slightly. 

“I need you to come for me, one last time.” He says as he lines himself up. J’mhazi, relaxed and wrung out from Aymeric’s earlier attentions, allows for the intrusion easily. 

Aymeric thrusts in, all in one smooth motion.

A cry tears itself from J’mhazi’s throat as he wrenches his head back _hard,_ his shoulders arching off the bed.

Oversensitive and reeling, babbling nonsense, he begs - _pleads_ \- as his whole body goes taut. Like a bowstring; A harp, waiting for the final note to be plucked. Tears slip out from the corners of his eyes as he tightly shuts them.

Aymeric chases his own release with shallow thrusts, drawing it out just a little bit longer, getting lost in the madness himself. He scrapes his teeth along the throat bared eagerly to him before biting down.

In the same moment he hilts himself completely, and they’re both lost.

Another shout that culminates in a broken sob forces its way out of J’mhazi as he spills untouched between their bodies. Aymeric rocks his hips slowly through the last of his own orgasm, releasing J’mhazi’s wrists and grasping one of his hands desperately, twining their fingers together.

Spent, and with the last frisson of his own climax leaving him almost dizzy, Aymeric’s tries to brush his clean hand across J’mhazi’s face.The miqo’te turns his head sharply away, taking a deep breath in, pressing gently at Aymeric’s collar to keep him back.

“I’ll not stand for that, Mhazi, _please_ -” Aymeric murmurs, reaching again and finding shed tears layered on flushed skin.

“Did I hurt you?” Aymeric asks, quiet but firm.

“No.” J’mhazi says softly, voice cracked. “No, you were perfect - This was perfect. I just-” His throat bobs desperately to keep more words, more emotions from tumbling out unbidden. He shifts suddenly and hisses as Aymeric’s softening member slides free. The man above him tries to catch his eyes as J’mhazi moves to the side, letting out a breathy laugh to himself as he sits up, a crooked smile playing along his lips; He wipes at his face and turns away. 

“I...It’s too much, for me, it’s too much.“ J’mhazi grits out, shaking his head and gathering his arms around himself. “I’m sorry...We should clean up? I don’t-”

Aymeric strokes what he hopes is a soothing line along his exposed back.

“Stay with me, Mhazi. I want you near. I meant what I told you earlier.” 

When J’mhazi doesn’t pull away any further, his shoulders slumping, Aymeric gently coaxes him back - back to _him_ \- to rest on his chest. He folds him into his arms carefully.

J’mhazi buries his face against Aymeric’s chest.

“Tomorrow.” Aymeric says firmly, wrapping himself around the smaller man protectively. “We can take care of everything else outside of this bed, tomorrow.”

He wants to argue. J’mhazi wants to get up and wash and change and _run_ … but even the thought of doing so twists him up inside further. He stretches up to kiss Aymeric and he returns it firmly, like a promise, before dousing the light.

* * *

J’mhazi stirs to the shuffle of feet and running water in the brightening room. 

“Aymeric…?” His hoarse and sleep-addled voice echoes in the empty bedroom as he reaches out over the empty expanse of the sheeting, finding nothing, and tries to ignore how much that bothers him.

Sticky and itchy, he tries to roll into a comfortable position again to no avail. He huffs, not hearing the water shut off nor the approaching footsteps.

Aymeric circles around the bed to where J’mhazi lay facing and kneels down.

“Morning, dearest.” He smiles.

“rning...” J’mhazi grumbles, eyes closed, reaching out a hand. Aymeric extends his own to meet it and J’mhazi clings on.

“If you’ve a mind to get up, I’ve drawn a bath…?”

J’mhazi ears perk up immediately though the man himself makes no move to stir. 

“I’ll take that as a yes?” Aymeric chuckles, drawing J’mhazi’s hand clasped in his up to brush his lips across the knuckles. “Will you be getting up, or do I need to carry you?”

J’mhazi cracks an eye open and his lips quirk up.

“No,” he lifts himself half up, stiff and sore. “But you can help me out of this bed.”

* * *

Sliding into the tub, he lets the water begin to soothe away lingering pains. He glances at his arms and legs and finds them riddled with bruises and welts, finally settling in from the battle. He rubs at a particularly tender one on his arm absently.

A knee brushes against his back as Aymeric joins him. J’mhazi flushes despite himself, sliding forward and splashing water on his face.

“Ridiculous…” he mutters into his own hands.

“May I..?” Aymeric runs a soaked hand through J’mhazi’s hair and it feels _good._ Really good. Leaning his head back into Aymeric’s deft fingers, he lets out a rumble from his chest that sounds suspiciously like a purr. He quickly covers it with a cough as he mumbles an affirmation. 

“Good.” Aymeric’s eyes crinkle as he tries to hide the mirth from his voice.

He drags J’mhazi closer, lower to the water; gently, _always gently_ , so he can wet his hair - making sure to avoid his ears. 

The rumbling purr begins again as soap is lathered in and he relaxes into the feeling. The light brush of nails along his scalp sending pleasant shivers up his spine.

After what feels like _far_ too short a time, Aymeric removes his hands in favor of rinsing.

J’mhazi turns with some amount of sluggishness to find Aymeric splashing water into his own hair.

“Let me?” J’mhazi says quietly.

“Of course..” The matched reply.

He rubs the soap between his hands before bringing his arms up to rest on Aymeric’s shoulders. J’mhazi runs his fingers in careful circles, catching the hair up in a lather, as Aymeric’s eyes slide closed. He gathers the hair at his nape, strokes along his temple with a thumb, and pulls his hand across his forehead to keep the soap at bay.

“Rinse.” J’mhazi tugs at Aymeric’s shoulders before rinsing his hands. “I’m afraid you're a touch too tall for me to splash water up there.” The man sighs and leans forward; J’mhazi leaves him space to wet the soap out before lightly shaking it dry.

Still facing one another in the tub, J’mhazi leans across the short distance to kiss him.

There’s no heat to it; it’s languid - slow - just a reminder that they’re both there and breathing and _safe_. Aymeric slowly slides his hands down J’mhazi’s sides; J’mhazi himself reaches for his Lord Commander’s neck, wrapping an arm around him for stability.

They slide into a recline, spilling water carelessly over the sides, holding one another until the bath grows tepid and their skin wrinkles.

* * *

Clean again and more relaxed than he’d been in weeks, J’mhazi leaves the bath shortly after Aymeric does, as requested. 

Drying with towels befitting a Lord’s station (and _by The Twelve_ were they plush) he notices a set of clothes left out on the bed. While not his size they seemed close enough to it, so he changes, rolling up the sleeves only a few times.

Walking out into the main room, he’s greeted with…food. Lots of it.

J’mhazi leans over the couch to rest on Aymeric’s shoulders. 

“Did you have this arranged while I was sleeping?” He asks. “Mistress Alanna must have been thrilled you were deciding to eat for once.” 

“Aye, ‘tis true.” Aymeric chuckles sheepishly. “Come, join me. You can’t run off until I have your things laundered so you’ll have to eat as well.”

* * *

Meal picked through and tea poured, the pair find themselves wound together on the couch by the fire.

“...Darling, thank you.” J’mhazi says, not quite able to look at him “I’m not...used to this but I dare say I could come to be.”

“Then I will endeavor to provide whenever I am able.” Aymeric smiles, choosing that moment to catch his eyes. “...Take you apart, then bring you back together piece by piece.” He hides a wicked smile behind a careful sip of his tea, ice blue staring straight through.

J’mhazi’s brows raise slightly and he _burns_. 

His heart starts beating _far_ too quickly and he has to turn away. In concession he reaches out a hand and threads his fingers with Aymeric’s.

“How are you feeling, dearest, really?” Aymeric runs his thumb along scarred knuckles.

“I-” J’mhazi starts before stalling and tightening his grip on Aymeric’s hand. “I don’t want to ruin this by talking about how I’m feeling.”

Aymeric gives him a look as he frees his hand and busies himself with his tea.

“If that’s truly what you want.” 

“Mm.”

They’re silent for a time; J’mhazi leans against Aymeric as he finishes his tea.

“What did you meet about yesterday?” He asks.

Aymeric sighs and sits forward.

“I need you to escort Lucia and introduce her to Vidofnir, to treat on Ishgard’s behalf.”

A couple weeks of travel at least. J’mhazi’s heart sinks.

“It’s a great place to start, Aymeric.” J’mhazi says. He tucks an errant strand of hair behind a pointed ear.

“You don’t have to leave until you’re ready - we’ve waited hundreds of years. We can wait a few days more.”

“I’ll take today.” J’mhazi says. “I don’t want to keep everyone waiting.” 

“Mhazi…You have the choice here. You can leave it off longer.” 

“Maybe I’ll find some good news? It doesn’t matter. It’ll be worth it to gain some ground with the Dravanians now.” J’mhazi places his teacup delicately on the table, slinking across Aymeric’s lap as he does. He pauses on the return, placing a hand purposefully high on his thigh.

“Don’t try to change the subject - It won’t work.” Aymeric says, a blush dusting high on his cheekbones.

“Oh?” J’mhazi says, huffing and depositing himself firmly in Aymeric’s lap. 

Aymeric sucks in a breath.

J’mhazi draws it out of him slowly, trying to chase away the dull ache in his chest with something else.

* * *

Leaning against the headboard, unable to doze productively, J’mhazi stares at his linkshell on the bedside table. He looks away, back down to Aymeric, resting at his side, and back to the linkshell.

He reaches for it, pressing it back into his ear, finally, J’mhazi dials in and it crackles to life.

“Alphy? Are you there?” He says quietly.

“Oh! Yes, J’mhazi - are you feeling better?” Alphinaud’s reply is quick and bright over the connection.

“Yes, thank you. I... I’ll be ready to leave tomorrow if that’s fine?” He says, hiding the hesitation in his voice as best he can.

“Excellent. Lucia can be ready quickly and I’ll be sure to prepare for the trip.”

“Alright. See you.” He closes the connection and leans back on the bed once more.

Aymeric nuzzles against him with a sigh.

“Sorry darling, go back to sleep.” He rubs his hand gently along his back and Aymeric’s breathing evens out once more.

* * *

They steal one more meal together in the evening.

“I hope I’ve not been keeping you from your work.” J’mhazi says with a wolfish grin.

“Even if you were,” Aymeric says after a gulp of wine, “It was _worth it_. I never hear the end of how I never sleep, and never eat, so truly one could say you’re assisting me just as much.” He winks.

J’mhazi laughs outright, dropping the cheese he had selected.

“...You’ll have to let me treat you to an actual meal here, you know.” Aymeric murmurs after the laugh tapers off into a sigh. “Courses, waitstaff, a proper sit-down affair.”

“Sounds dreadful.” J’mhazi sticks his tongue out before tearing off another piece of bread for his cheese.

“Think about it.” 

J’mhazi shoves the entire piece of bread in his mouth and preens.

Aymeric rolls his eyes and J’mhazi laughs again while he tries to swallow his food, grabbing a napkin to clean up after the crumbs.

There, seated in the common area of Aymeric’s master suite, J’mhazi chooses (unknowingly) to break their delicate dance.

“...How are you so good at this? You’re absolutely incredible.” He says.

Aymeric considers the question. How much to say, how to say it. Pushes back from his meal and takes a moment.

“In hopes you won’t deflect this time, I’ll be blunt.” He smiles but his brows pinch together. “I’ve loved you for quite some time, I’m afraid.”

J’mhazi waits for a punchline that doesn’t come.

“It was from afar at first, of course, which seems like a poor reflection of the real thing, I see now.” Aymeric continues. “How could I not? The hero who lights up every room he’s in, sweeping through to rescue the downtrodden in their hour of need. How could I not love you?” He leans onto his forearms on the table.

“But, Estinien? I thought-” The name lances through them both painfully.

“Hardly seems fair that we didn’t have the time to talk about it, only just such a brief moment." Aymeric swallows roughly. "Of course I loved him."

“Darling, I-” Fear beats at J’mhazi’s rib cage, trying to claw its way out. 

“I...understand if this is not something you feel.” Aymeric says, carefully controlled. “That doesn’t change anything.”

Run. Run, run, _run, run._

“I can’t.” J'mhazi presses his eyes closed.

J’mhazi thinks of Haurchefaunt’s lifeless body, just behind the paraphets. Of Thancred, still missing. Minfillia, Yda, Papalymo. And even Estinien, body twisted into something dark and foreign, even now.

He startles at the feeling of a hand stroking along his jaw. 

“Can’t, or won’t?” Aymeric’s face falls in regret as soon as the words leave his lips. “Forgive me. It’s not my place.”

He draws away but J’mhazi grabs his wrist, his shirt.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “ _I’m so sorry_.” 

* * *

J’mhazi wakes early, having slept restlessly in fits and starts.

Aymeric managed to convince him to stay, despite everything, and while sleeping here was far better than sleeping alone, he felt…. Guilty. Something was wrong...wrong with him? 

He thinks about stealing away quietly in borrowed clothes. Shuts his eyes again. Exhales.

He stretches and rolls towards the man next to him and breathes deeply against the crook of his neck. Sandalwood, spiced wine, _sweat_. 

“...It’s early yet, Mhazi - do you have to leave so soon?” Aymeric turns and blinks lazily.

“I do,” he replies, kissing into the hollow at his collar. “I need to prepare for the road, my poor bird’s probably furious.”

“Mm. Be safe.” Aymeric pauses, carding his hands through J’mhazi’s hair. “I love you, come back soon.”

J’mhazi stiffens and his throat seizes.

“Just tell me you’ll be safe, and that you’ll return soon.” Aymeric says, patiently.

“I-” J’mhazi swallows. “I’ll return, to you, as soon as I can.” He gently brushes his lips against Aymeric’s before reluctantly pulling away.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> u know that feel when u write 5600 words for the purpose of about 1k of those words like a clown???  
> oops.  
> Thank you for following along with this brainworm, ilu, the hit counter on this both motivates and mortifies y'all are wonderful <3


	4. Lost & Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Lucia waves them in and receives the news of Vidofnir’s acceptance herself, with far less excitement than expected. An almost pained look passes across her face._
> 
> _“It’s wonderful, truly - but I would have preferred to have Lord Aymeric here to receive the news, as well.”_
> 
> _“Where….is he?” J’mhazi asks, looking around, realizing belatedly that the man in question wasn’t there, and that no one had gone to fetch him. That both Hilda and Handeloup were present and making plans quietly over the war table in the commons._
> 
> _Lucia looks back down to the map on the table._
> 
> _“There was an attempt on his life, shortly before I returned.”_
> 
> _“ Wh -”_
> 
> _All the air is promptly sucked out of J’mhazi’s lungs and it’s all he can do not to stagger on his feet, the rest of the room falling away._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii really struggled with this one, so thank u for your patience while i sort out where this is going. Thought it was gonna get there in one but it did not, so now it's gonna be two!

* * *

J’mhazi meets with Lucia at the _Congregation of the Knights Most Heavenly_ early in the morning. Alphinaud strolls in shortly after, almost surprised to see them already waiting.

He waves and J’mhazi returns it, building up his confidence - _his armor_ \- moment by moment.

“Are we ready?” He says, cheerfully enough, nose rosy from the biting winds outside.

J’mhazi nods. “I’ll just need to rescue the Chocobokeep from my bird.” He says. Lucia chuckles.

“I’ve not traveled that far into Dravania myself, I am full glad you both agreed to assist with the introduction. I’ll be a few moments more and we can depart.” She says.

“We’ll be gone a while,” Alphinaud says. “Let’s check in with Tataru and we’ll meet you by the Landing shortly after.” Lucia nods her head in agreement, and the pair take off with J’mhazi shadowing his small companion.

* * *

J’mhazi quirks his eyebrow up at the mention of a mysterious new scholar that just so happens to make Alphinaud of all people nervous. Like a schoolchild. He clears his throat and moves the subject along quickly enough but J’mhazi promises to do his best to ensure they’re in the area to greet their contact, if able.

If only to sate his curiosity. 

Listening to Tataru jab at Alphinaud does wonders to warm him against the chill of the morning and he lets himself smile.

* * *

Stubborn bird collected, goodbyes said, they rendezvous with Lucia at the Airship Landing and make their way on to Falcon’s Nest and through, ideally quickly, to Tailfeather.

Lucia rents her own bird and forges on ahead once sufficiently outfitted, with Alphinaud and J’mhazi plodding along after.

“She’s angry with me.” J’mhazi says absently, half to Alphinaud, half to the clouds. He stretches forward to scritch the side of Queenie’s beak. “I know I shouldn’t just leave like that - I’m sorry.” Again, to the bird or to Alphinaud, no one can say.

Alphinaud pats arm from his seat at the back.

“It’s alright, really.” He says, a bit louder over the wind. “We’re just worried, that’s all.” Alphinaud scrambles for J’mhazi’s cloak as Queenie gives a dissatisfied lurch forward, warbling.

“Yeah yeah.” J’mhazi says, patting the bird’s neck and she coos, placated. “I know.”

* * *

Outside Tailfeather, they gather themselves.  
  
J’mhazi had never seen Lucia nervous. Not in the time he had known her. 

“Anything I can offer to help?” J’mhazi sidles up to her left, staring out into the Dravanian forest. She smiles at him, strained, before turning back to stare as well.

“I am no diplomat, yet here I am.” She says. “It seems odd that this task should fall to me.”

“He trusts you.” J’mhazi offers automatically.

“And I’d reward that trust with success here.” Lucia returns, guarded. “But I have my reservations.” 

“I’d imagine that you would.” Alphinaud says quietly, joining them. “It’s not been an easy fight, but...have heart. I think we all have reason to want to come together.” 

* * *

Vidofnir receives them, which was a blessing all itself.

Lucia is gracious, to the point, and Vidofnir agrees to hear the proposal. She recounts the root of their betrayal and their desire to make amends. To make peace. Lucia looks briefly to Alphinaud when she mentions Ysayle, hoping her words are enough to sway the dragon.

Vidofnir’s response is… lukewarm. But not rejection. Lucia is steadfast in her resolve and does not flinch.

They’ve brought Ishgard to the negotiating table, and it’s up to them to make good on it.

“You’ll be alright to head back from here?” J’mhazi says, quietly, their talks concluded.

“Yes, thank you.” Lucia says. “And-”

“We’ll help, of course we will. Anything I can do.” J’mhazi smiles. “Send my best to the Lord Commander. We’ll see you back in the city.”

* * *

The shadow of regret still weighed heavy on his mind; It was hard for J’mhazi to take in much of what was said en route to Idyllshire. 

Should he have said something to Aymeric if he _wanted_ to mean it? Could he have meant it if he said it? The shock of aether to his senses as they arrived jarred him from his musings and he tried to get his bearings. 

Y’shtola was waiting for them and explained their new scholar friend was off surveying the area and J’mhazi visibly brightened, shaking off what he could of his melancholy.

Waiting outside the gate, the diminutive scholar comes into view.

“Krile!” Y’shtola exclaims. “How were your explorations?”

“Informative!” She returns, “but I do think that can wait - apologies for the delay.”

“You need not apologize. Our friends arrived but a moment ago.” Y’shtola smiles, turning to J’mhazi and Alphinaud. “Pray allow me to introduce Krile, who is recently come from the Sharlayan motherland. She has generously offered to assist us.”

Alphinaud turns a bright shade of pink upon seeing her that J’mhazi’s not seen on him before. He raises an eyebrow.

  
  
“You must be the Warrior of Light. Yes...you certainly do look the part. A pleasure to meet you at last, sir.” J’mhazi turns back to Krile, absolutely unaccustomed to the formality.

“Absolutely no need for honorifics - thank you for coming to our aid.” J’mhazi smiles warmly, she returns it before glancing past him.

What J’mhazi witnesses next is the most thorough dismantling of the kid that he’d ever seen, up until this point. He was shocked. Delighted, but shocked. Oh, J’mhazi was going to _like this one_ .  
  
A few back and forths later, and actually managing to make Y’shtola laugh at one point, Krile drops a fist in her other hand, having completed her embarrassment of the young Elezen.

“Right. On to more pressing matters─finding Minfilia and the other missing Scions!” Krile says.

J’mhazi lets out a small sigh, the spell broken.

* * *

  
Trekking to Master Matoya’s cave proved to be a.. mostly simple matter.

If it weren’t for the rogue goblins, giant bugs and the general hostility of the environment...And the giant aetheric dome that popped up in the center of the Forelands that J’mhazi was studiously ignoring as he _absolutely_ did not have time to deal with right now.  
  
They make it south, and intrude upon the quiet of Matoya’s cave for the second time in so many moons.

Upon entry the mage herself lets out a great beleaguered sigh.

Krile charms Matoya in her frankness, something J’mhazi assumed she valued but had not seen someone wield so tactfully thus far.

Throughout the course of their back and forth, two things of interest are revealed. That Matoya has a Crystal of Light from a bygone age, and that Krile herself is possessed of the Echo. Though of a different sort of manifestation. A sense of the soul.

He can’t tell whether to be awed or nervous, but he settles on grateful.

The crystal allows Krile to sense where Thancred exited the aetherial stream - possibly near Tailfeather. As good a place to start as any. Alphinaud begins talking excitedly as they ready to leave.

J’mhazi half bows to Matoya. “It seems we owe you another debt, Master Matoya.”

“Think nothing of it, boy, I’m sure you and Shtola will be back afore long to get into my hair and I’ll put you to work.”

J’mhazi smiles and takes his leave.

* * *

  
Alphinaud had already prepared several sketches - no, drawings of Thancred by the time they had arrived at Tailfeather.

“This...this is impressive.” Y’shtola murmurs. “You drew him from memory alone?”

“A skill I acquired some years ago for reasons I no longer remember.” Alphinaud says quickly and all at once as he distributes the drawings to the others. J’mhazi looks down at the rough paper and the face staring back at him is indeed an almost perfect likeness of their missing friend.

He smiles, holding the drawing carefully.

“He learned how to draw to impress a girl, practicing for hours.” Krile whispers behind her hand when Alphinaud is sufficiently out of earshot.

J’mhazi barks out a laugh and he has to immediately excuse himself to question the hunters as Alphinaud whips around at the noise.

* * *

  
Welcomed to Loth ast Vath once again after their successful informational reconnaissance, J’mhazi gets straight to the point and brings the drawing to the Vath Storyteller.

It didn’t take long for them to determine that, yes, Thancred had been here, and that he in fact had gone off on his own to the Gnath settlement to intercede against the summoning of Ravana.

J’mhazi’s jaw sets into a hard grimace as he turns to his companions.

“Well, we have to go after him, and quickly.” Alphinaud says. 

“I won’t let him face that thing alone.” J’mhazi promises as he turns, setting off into a sprint.

* * *

J’mhazi charges through the Gnath encampment - he can already hear the sounds of fighting.

From the higher vantage point he can see five figures grouped together, swing after swing, and they fell the primal in record time. 

He’s momentarily stunned. _Who are these people?_

Shaken into action once more when Alphinaud keeps moving past him, rushing down into the valley, Y’shtola and Krile in tow.

* * *

Ravana falls, bested again by mortal hands.

J’mhazi skids to a stop as the brown-haired Midlander turns, a sneer cutting across his handsome face.

A sharp pain cuts into J’mhazi’s brow and it seems to hit the Midlander just as hard. The throb of a heartbeat takes him and his vision goes white.

.

_The five now familiar figures stand in opposition to one in black, an Ascian, as the figure with the axe shouts with conviction about how they’ll stop them - how they’ll save their home._

_  
_ _  
_ **_“Fools playing at heroes, all of you.”_ ** _The robed figure spits._ **_“Is this how you believe you can save your world?”_ ** ****

**_  
_ ** **_  
_ ** _The voice stirs something deep inside, just out of reach._ _  
_ _  
_ _The strangers forge together a blade of pure light - a familiar sight to J’mhazi now - and they cast out the darkness and unmake the villain to their story._

.

J’mhazi gasps, returned to his senses, and hears one echoed from Krile behind him.

“So you are the Warrior of Light. The savior of Eorzea.” The man in front of him scoffs, dismissive. “It's a wonder you didn't come sooner, what with the primal and all. Lost a step, have we?” The taunt echoes, his voice sharp.

Y’shtola presses up next to J’mhazi. “Have care. The aether moves strangely around him.”

Alphinaud steps forward as well, attempting diplomacy.

He’s met with an axe and an arrow in return, scattering their small party and separating everyone in an attempt to catch J’mhazi alone.

Five to four was hardly fair; one to one, maybe... That his friends are cast aside so easily is concerning, but if he could just get close enough...

J’mhazi bares his teeth in a snarl and brings his greatsword up to defend himself. He manages to deflect the first blow of the axe but is tossed backwards, sliding along the dirt and stone. 

They dance, trading blows, neither willing to concede.

Panting, _furious_ , he’s about to bring his sword to bear again when he sees a glint in the sky, almost out of sight. He skids to a stop as a figure in white and black leaps down and engages the rogue warrior in front of him. He takes that opening to angle and rush over to knock back the woman accosting Alphinaud. 

He pulls the small Elezen to his feet and tucks him behind at his back with only a mild squeak of protest. J’mhazi calls to Krile, Y’shtola, and they regroup... but it’s not needed.

As he refocuses his efforts, the duel reaches a stalemate, and the new contender with the twin blades has forced the axe-wielder back.

J’mhazi can hear the disdain in his voice when the Midlander speaks to the stranger:

“Not very sporting of you to interrupt, but so be it.” He says. Turning back to J’mhazi, he stares directly into his eyes.

“Mark well our faces, _Warrior of Light_ , for we are the Warriors of Darkness. Walkers of a different path. And we shall meet again.”

Jogging forward in fury as they blink away in retreat, J’mhazi stabs his sword into the ground and takes a deep breath in before turning to the stranger. The quip he had prepared dies in his throat as he finally gets a good look at his half hidden face.

“Sorry I’m late.” Thancred says, casually, as if he wasn’t missing for nigh on half a _year_.

“Thancred..?” J’mhazi says with a laugh bubbling up in his throat as he practically throws himself at the other man, hanging off his shoulders. “Gods, I should have guessed - we found you. We actually found you.” He tries to keep the tremble out of his voice. If Thancred notices, he doesn’t draw attention to it.

Nor the desperate way J’mhazi clings to him for just a beat too long before he lets go.

“.. _.Warriors of Darkness? ...Really_?” J’mhazi can hear Krile scoff from behind him as she wanders over.

“We need to get out of here.” Thancred says, clearing his throat, and J’mhazi retrieves his sword as the others dust themselves off and make their way over.

“We can reconvene at the Vath settlement. I’d like to thank them for their hospitality one last time, and you need to fill me in at least in part on what I’ve missed.” Thancred offers.

J’mhazi nods, and they make their way out of the encampment and onto the road North.

* * *

  
Y’shtola and Thancred speak in quiet tones while the group make their way north to Loth ast Vath. 

J’mhazi, trying to pay attention to the conversation, finds himself taking up the rear and scouring the scenery in their retreat. As relieved as he was to have recovered another friend, it was quickly becoming clear he was having difficulty focusing. 

A hand on his leg startles him.

“You don’t have to be so vigilant, constantly; we’re all capable, and we’ve gone far enough from the encampment now to avoid pursuit.” Krile says, patting his leg again for good measure.

J’mhazi opens his mouth to say something, but she continues.

“I know you don’t know me, but I can tell when someone’s taken on too much when they needn’t.” She says. “Minfillia had a terrible habit of doing the same thing, I can see what she saw in you.”

J’mhazi clenches his fist, thinking back to her comments about her Echo. Soul-sight. Wondering what it is that she can see.

“If that were true,” he starts, restrained, “if I didn’t need to take on _more_ , if it was safe to relax, then Minfillia would be here and Y’shtola wouldn’t be _blind_ \- Yda and Papalymo would be with us.” Krile stops and turns to look at him, considering.

“Fleeing Ul’dah without them will be something I will never forgive myself for, so you’ll forgive **_me_ ** if I do what I can to make up for it when I’m...able.” J’mhazi says, low, eying her.

“My apologies... what I said wasn’t meant as dismissal.” Krile says, holding his gaze. “But you can’t help anyone if you’re stretched thin - and based on what I’ve seen, you already are.”

“I-“ J’mhazi stutters, and looks up and past her to find them being watched by their other companions. “I am sorry, Krile, I...think I understand what you mean.” He sighs. “I can hardly remember when we found Y’shtola I was so out of sorts and focused on the people yet missing…” J’mhazi smiles at Y’shtola a bit sadly, and she returns it with a much warmer one. “From there we rushed into a confrontation with another primal and I... lost someone else.” He sees Alphinaud look down out of the corner of his eye.

“I don’t blame you for the instinct, J’mhazi.” Krile says, softly. “Just. Consider what I said. But who am I to give advice? You’re a man grown.” At that she turns and walks back to join the bulk of the group.

J’mhazi takes a moment to himself, looking back at the Gnath encampment before catching up as they make their way towards the Vath.

* * *

It was a short trek from there to Anyx Trine, so they took it slower than strictly necessary, but J’mhazi was thankful for the respite all the same.

They recount for Vidofnir ...enough of the tale of their encounter with Ravanna and the mysterious Echo-blessed fighters who took him down. While not through their own actions, Ravanna is still slain and the Gnath are still calmed. Their agreement is kept despite the strange circumstances and J’mhazi is hopeful that the spirit of bargain is enough. Vidofnir agrees, and with the blessing of Hraesvelgr no less.

He bristles still with mention of the so-called Warriors of Darkness. He could not understand why they would stand in opposition to their fight here and why they wished to fight _him_ . Why they want him dead. Why they _hate him_ so.  
  
What could they have seen of his past? 

It’s with these thoughts that they bade Vidofnir farewell, hopeful at least that they can bring news of their mutual agreement back to Ishgard.

Though not exactly how they wanted to secure their support, Vidofnir agreeing to help was the perfect news to bring back after far too long away. 

The road back felt longer somehow, hot with the discomfort of anticipation.

* * *

Without any sign of Nidhogg to track, all they could do was prepare and proceed with their own plans for peace. J’mhazi mindlessly picks his way along to the stables once they made their way into the city.

“I know, I know,” He says as Queenie hisses at the stable door. “But I like it here so please? I promise I’ll find a better solution for you soon.” She bites a bag of greens from out of his pack and kicks her feet at him as she corrals herself.

The chocobokeep gives a look of abject horror that he schools into polite impatience as J’mhazi hands over the boarding fee. And then some.

* * *

Convening at the Congregation seemed the most logical thing to do, and a part of J’mhazi was mad with longing to see him. 

Aymeric. 

He’d been thinking about what to say when he returned to the city, thankfully with good news, but he’d come up blank. He only hoped that he wouldn’t end up looking foolish.

Would time apart have cooled him from his confession? Would Aymeric have regrets about loving such a weak-hearted man? J’mhazi takes in a breath and is shaky on the exhale. Alphinaud gives him a strange look as they wait for Lucia’s attention.

Lucia waves them in and receives the news of Vidofnir’s acceptance herself, with far less excitement than expected. An almost pained look passes across her face.

“It’s wonderful, truly - but I would have preferred to have Lord Aymeric here to receive the news, as well.”

“Where….is he?” J’mhazi asks, looking around, realizing belatedly that the man in question wasn’t there, and that no one had gone to fetch him. That both Hilda and Handeloup were present and making plans quietly over the war table in the commons.

Lucia looks back down to the map on the table.

“There was an attempt on his life, shortly before I returned.” 

“ _Wh_ -” 

All the air is promptly sucked out of J’mhazi’s lungs and it’s all he can do not to stagger on his feet, the rest of the room falling away.

“What did you say?” He whispers. His hand shakes and he balls it into a fist to stop it from rattling his armaments. His ears fall back, low, disappearing into his hair.

“He’ll make a full recovery, and we’re very thankful Lord Edmont and Lord Artoirel were accompanying him or it might have been quite a different story.” Her voice is laced with regret.

“That was only the beginning, I’m afraid.” Handeloupe continues when Lucia trails off. “His...injury prompted other attacks throughout the city. We could use your assistance with containing them.” 

J’mhazi nods mutely after he realizes everyone’s attention had fallen to him, and were waiting for his response. He shuts his eyes for a moment to try and quell the thundering of his own heart, pressing a thumbs and forefinger to the bridge of his nose.

Thancred drags J’mhazi aside by the arm while Alphinaud and Y’shtola make plans to collect Tataru to sweep The Foundation. J’mhazi draws his brows together, pained, as he continues to press between his brows.

He snaps his fingers in front of J'mhazi's face.

“I need you to focus.” Thancred says, firmly, when he has his attention. “The Pillars?”

J’mhazi tilts his head to the side. “You have Hilda, you can-”

“We need _you_ , let’s go.”

“I _can’t_ , I-”

“If he really means that much to you, you’ll help stop his city from being burnt to ashes.” Thancred says, low enough as to not be overheard by listening ears. His frown deepens even with the leather across one eye as his arm slides up to gently squeeze J’mhazi’s arm.

J’mhazi locks eyes with the Hyur’s visible one.

“It’s writ plain across your face, my friend - the others would be daft not to see it.”

The miqo'te clicks his tongue across his teeth, frustrated, and marches out of the Congregation, Thancred and Hilda close behind.

* * *

“Lucia!” J’mhazi shouts, breathlessly, ilms in from the doors. “We found our arsonist, he had a highborn benefactor, he-” He doubles over and takes a breath in, heaving, as Thancred and Hilda catch up minutes later.

She looks surprised, but thankful all the same, already making arrangements for what to do.

“Apologies for the interruption…” Stepping gingerly in behind the thrown open doors and in behind the others is Artiorel. “My father insisted I speed this over - for Lord Aymeric. He said it would assist with the healing.” 

J’mhazi whips his head around to regard the man and the salve in his hand, before turning again as Lucia nods and gestures for him to pass through to the lift and the upper offices.

J’mhazi clenches his fists together so tightly he can feel the cording holding his gauntlet together fray and snap.

Propriety be damned.

“May I see him?” Head bowed and ears flat back. “ _Please_.”

Lucia looks concerned for a moment, even Artoirel turns around from his walk towards the lift at J’mhazi’s low and unsure tone.

Alphinaud puts a hand on J’mhazi’s forearm but he tugs it away.

“I won’t be long but...please.”

Lucia nods to him as well after a moment. “I’m sure he’d be glad to see you, Warrior of Light.”

* * *

In the lift, J’mhazi keeps his eyes glued forward.

Artoirel can’t help but glance down at his trembling hands.

“Are you quite alright yourself, J’mhazi? Maybe you should have the chiru-” 

“I’m fine,” J’mhazi cuts him off, loud and curt; Clenching his fist again and snapping the final piece of cording on his right gauntlet, he curses. angrily pulling it off his hand he tosses it to the floor of the lift, shortly followed by the other as they exit and move down the hall.

Artoirel stops them both with a hand held out before the door to the Lord commander’s offices.

“J’mhazi-”

“Look,” J’mhazi pinches the bridge of his nose, “I’m acting strangely because _I’m in love with him_ and I’m terrified, alright?” He hisses out. “Now can we **please** go inside?” His face near burning with the admission. Artoirel steps aside abruptly in surprise, allowing J’mhazi to push past and swing open the door.

He finds Lord Edmont and Aymeric talking quietly on the far side of the room. They both look up at the rather loud rattle of the door on its hinges. 

Aymeric is seated in his customary (if rather imposing) chair at his desk. His armor is draped over a chair to the side and he has a thick cloak draped over a shoulder. If it weren’t for the reddened bandages adorning his middle, he’d hardly look worse for wear. 

“Mhazi-“ Aymeric says, eyes bright despite the circumstances. Lord Edmont’s eyes flit between his son and his unexpected tag-along.

J’mhazi takes a few careful steps forward into the office before striding the rest of the way over, past Edmont’s inquisitive look, and into Aymeric’s periphery.

“Darling, I-'' His voice catches as he hesitates. J’mhazi pauses before taking one of Aymeric’s hands in his own, willing his own hands to stop shaking now that he has something to hold on to.

Edmont’s brows shoot up his forehead, understanding dawning on his face, and he steps back to give the pair some room. Artoirel places the salve quietly on the desk next to the rest of the aid supplies and takes his father aside, still eyeing J’mhazi with a mix of surprise and something warmer.

Eyes fixed solely on each other, J’mhazi rushes to speak.

“I should have been here.” He says, squeezing the hand in his.

“...you were exactly where I asked you to be, Mhazi-“

J’mhazi holds up one of his hands and brings it, still trembling, to Aymeric’s lips.

“Please, let me...say my piece.” J’mhazi smiles weakly. “I should have been here, or at the very least I should have had the decency to tell the man I love _that I do love him_ before leaving for weeks and I-“ he takes a breath, holds it, before releasing. “..You’re so patient, more than I deserve.”

Aymeric flushes lightly, the color of it dusting his pale cheeks, his gaze open and hopeful. “It is not about _patience_ Mhazi, and you don’t have to-”

“No, I do-” J’mhazi bites back, but with no real heat, brushing his thumb across Aymeric’s brow. “I’ve been terrified because this fucking _matters_ to me, but after returning here and finding out someone tried to _kill you_ , darling... I don’t know what I would have done.”

The strength leaves him at that last spoken word and he kneels, supplicant, facing Aymeric, head bowed and hands pressed into the arm of the chair.

“I love you, Aymeric de Borel, and I want you to know that at least when I can’t be close.”

The Lord Commander sits and considers the magnitude of _that_ confession from _this_ man for a moment before placing his hand carefully overtop the ones at his side.

“And I love you, J’mhazi Tia .. of House Foretemps.” Aymeric says before glancing up, remembering their audience, albeit a bit belatedly. 

Artoirel clears his throat and turns slightly to hide a smile. Lord Edmont’s face grows soft.

J’mhazi freezes and looks up at Aymeric, eyes widening, keeping his back turned in his kneel as he slowly covers his face with a hand. Doing his best not to expire right on the spot.

“I...do feel as though we’ve intruded on a rather private moment.” Lord Edmont’s dry timbre cuts into the now-silence of the room. “I’m sure you both can figure out how to work the salve into the wound so we’ll leave you to it - But Ser Aymeric, I imagine your knights need to hear from you soon, so don’t dally overlong.”

J’mhazi can feel his entire neck grow hot and he tries his best to disappear into the floor

“Thank you for the salve, Lord Edmont.” Aymeric says, surprisingly composed despite the rush of color to his ears. “Pray inform Lucia we will be down shortly.”

Lord Edmont nods and departs, flanked by his son.

When he hears the door click shut J’mhazi lets out a groan and deflates to sit on his feet, leaning back.

“Gods help me...” J’mhazi sighs. “I’ve completely embarrassed the both of us.”

Aymeric pulls himself forward in the chair, wincing slightly. 

“I think they were just surprised to hear you speak so openly in front of...” Aymeric says warmly before pausing. “Well, anyone really. Though if you had wanted to keep this little dalliance a secret I dare say you’ve done a very poor job of that.”

J’mhazi looks up sharply and hops to his feet with a frown. 

“I wasn’t trying to be secretive, Aymeric-“ He bends to kiss the crown of his head. “Dangerous people want to hurt me, with new ones seeming to pop up every day…” his thoughts flit briefly to the Warriors of Darkness, but he shakes his head. “Not to mention my role as a Scion demanding that I be impartial.” He toys with a curl of Aymeric’s hair. “...Which is a failing of mine I take very seriously.” 

Aymeric laughs and then cuts himself off with a quick press of lips together as he places a hand gingerly across his stomach.

“ _Ah_ \- while not quite a gut wound, the knife definitely cut into a few muscles.” He says, strained.

J’mhazi looks down at Aymeric, concerned, and runs a hand through midnight hair apologetically. “Let’s get you that salve and re-dress the wound.” He turns to grab the tin, clean cloths and new bandages, and as he does he can feel Aymeric’s hand seek purchase on his back through the straps of his armor.

He smiles, turning, trapped between the desk and Aymeric’s legs.

“Gods I’ve missed you.” Aymeric croaks, rapidly losing composure. “All I could think about while my insides grew cold was that I didn’t have enough _time_.” His eyes shone. “Time to end a war, to set things back to rights here in Ishgard, to prove to you that I meant what I said-“

“I know, darling, I know-“ J’mhazi leans in and seals his lips over the other man’s in a frantic kiss before pulling back.

“I thought just maybe The Fury had set a course for me, but...” Aymeric said, slowly.

All of a sudden, the sound of a throbbing heartbeat sucks all the air out of the room and J’mhazi brings his hand to his temple as he clenches his eyes shut against the feeling, swaying on his feet. He doesn’t hear the clatter as he drops the supplies he’s holding, nor see the concerned look in Aymeric’s eyes as he goes rigid in his arms.

.

**_No… please, not this - please._ **

_The Brume should be a perfectly fine area to pass through, evening or not, but J’mhazi can see the culprit even as Aymeric cannot, focused ahead as he is._

_He walks purposefully with Lord Edmont and his eldest son, chatting amiably about something immaterial._

**_No!_ **

_Aymeric’s attention slips, just for a moment, and that’s all it takes as the Brumeling with the knife plunges the weapon deep into his abdomen. It takes him a heartbeat to register what happens, but then a knee buckles, and then the other, and then Aymeric is falling._

_J’mhazi wants to scream as Artoirel turns and rushes over to Aymeric, his lifeblood seeping out into the veins between the cobblestone. Then he stills._

**_Why, why, why, w h y_ **

_._

J’mhazi gasps as he regains his faculties, hand spreading out on the desk behind him.

He’s grasping for the supplies he no longer has and Aymeric is looking at him with a mix of concern and guilt, a supporting hand at his waist.

“Mhazi, are you...did you see?”

J’mhazi, feeling fragile - fit to break - clenches his jaw against the sob that tries to claw its way out. His pulse thundering, he gently pulls Aymeric’s head to his chest and keeps him there, cheek to crown, until his breathing calms. 

“I…” His voice cracks and he tries again. “- At least I saw his face.”

“Oh Mhazi…” Aymeric says, stricken, stroking his back, “would that I could have spared you that.” 

“I’m alright. D-don’t fuss...” J’mhazi says shakily, unfurling himself to collect the salve tin and the bandages from the floor. “...We’re alright.” He puts on a smile, cupping Aymeric’s face gently as he rises, before moving off to procure a chair and push it near so he can attend to Aymeric fully.

J’mhazi carefully removes the bandaging from Aymeric’s stomach, allowing the man himself to _only_ lay his hands down for resting purposes, or to wind them in hair or armor lacings when they inevitably become restless; But J’mhazi would not suffer him to assist with dressing the wound. 

The wound itself was _deep_ , but clean and straight. The attacker was not particularly motivated and J’mhazi lets out a quiet prayer to The Warden - to whoever the hells might be listening - in thanks. 

While not devout, or even someone who had faith of any kind (certainly not after what he’d seen) J’mhazi was beginning to think that love and fear might make him prone to bouts of religious fervor in the end.

He shivers as Aymeric’s fingers find the sensitive juncture behind his ear.

“You’re thinking too much, dearest, I can see it on your face.” Aymeric says, smiling softly.

“Mm,” J’mhazi does his best to unfurrow his brow, “Just thinking about what it means to have faith, that’s all.”

Aymeric looks briefly surprised, then does his best to relax as J’mhazi finally gets around to opening to salve tin. The salve smells _awful_ , predictably, and J’mhazi wrinkles his nose as he grabs for a clean cloth to use to spread it.

“I don’t know what this is, so I’m sorry if this hurts or stings.” J’mhazi says quietly, and he dips into the salve with the cloth, enough to spread evenly around and over the wound.

Starting at the top, J’mhazi gently dabs the cloth along, making sure not to press. He works his way down the gash until it’s covered, then wraps the cloth on itself to keep the used salve from getting all over Aymeric’s oak desk. He turns to grab a bandage and wrappings when Aymeric sucks in a breath.

“Is everything alright?” J’mhazi asks, turning back.

“Ah, yes, just started to tingle a bit. I think it’s numbing. I’m fine.” Aymeric smiles, dismissing him with a wave.

J’mhazi clamors quickly for the dressing and wrappings, holding the bandage just lightly enough to the wound like he’s done for himself dozens of times. This time it’s different though; this time he wants to be careful.

“You’re hesitating,” Aymeric says. “Let me hold the dressing.” 

J’mhazi shakes his head. “Let me _do this for you_.”

Aymeric puts one of his hands over J’mhazi’s and presses the dressing more firmly down, reaching up to stroke J’mhazi’s cheek with the other.

“I’m not fragile, J’mhazi, and I’m alright.”

This does finally snap J’mhazi into some sense, as he relinquishes his hold on the bandage and lets Aymeric hold it there himself. J’mhazi unrolls the wrappings and begins the process of securing the dressing along his middle. Even wraps, firmly tied.

Together they manage to re-wrap the wound and tie off the bandage at his side.

“Help me with my armor?” Aymeric says, slightly sheepish, as he tries to rise out of the chair without jostling his injury. J’mhazi is there instantly at his elbow, not to press, but to offer an arm if it’s needed.

Aymeric flexes one shoulder upward, then the other.

“I must say,” he mumbles, “it does seem to be doing something...” J’mhazi collects Aymeric’s shirt, gloves, and armor padding from the chair and places them within reach.

J’mhazi holds out the shirt first, thankfully one with a front-closure. Aymeric slides his arms in carefully, and J’mhazi helps pull it up his shoulders. Circling to his front, he starts trying it closed, focusing on that instead of the bandages - instead of the wound - before Aymeric gently grabs his hands.

“I know what you’re thinking, and I know you’re holding your tongue because you yourself would refuse the same if our roles were reversed,” Aymeric sighs, “but I would still have you speak your mind, Mhazi. This tension from you is not better.” 

J’mhazi looks up and meets his gaze and the shock of blue that stares back makes his knees weak. 

He tries to speak, and all that comes out at first is air as he’s hit with the _depth_ of his feelings and how little he’s able to control them, now.

“...Of course I would prefer you resting, healing - you’ve been _stabbed_ , Aymeric.” He whispers. “I could press, I could fight you about it, but it won’t change anything and it won’t heal you.” 

Aymeric tilts his head, in either agreement or contemplation, then smiles, and leans in carefully to kiss him. J’mhazi does his best to push upwards to meet him.

“Thank you, Mhazi. I hope it feels better to say it.” 

J’mhazi nods mutley and presses his face into Aymeric’s chest, just for a moment, before returning to the fastenings. 

* * *

J’mhazi accompanies Aymeric down to the main floor of the congregation to find everyone chatting amiably with Lord Edmont and Artoirel.

Though the chatter doesn’t immediately end, it does taper off, and there’s a distinct air of _knowing_ that settles in among all present immediately sending a flush up the back of J’mhazi’s neck. 

He prays to gods that likely won't listen for a _swift and merciful death_ , refusing to meet anyone’s eyes as he folds his arms behind his back. Aymeric moves to speak with Lucia and Handeloupe, leaving J’mhazi exposed and alone at the lift. He swiftly walks to a bench by the door and out of the way, sitting down and busying himself with attempting to repair the gauntlets he retrieved from the lift.

He can feel himself being watched.

Alphinaud sits beside him on the bench and politely waits for an opportunity to speak.

“You could have said-“ Alphinaud starts.

“I’m only just coming around to it myself, Alphy, please. I-“ J’mhazi shuts his eyes, his face hot. “It’s… difficult.” Alphinaud holds his hand out for the gauntlet and, after a moment, J’mhazi passes it to him with a sigh. With his smaller hands, he’s able to get his fingers around the cording and secure a knot near where it had snapped, holding it together. He pulls at it to check the tension.

“You will want to get it repaired, but it should hold for now.” Alphinaud says, passing it back.

“I- thank you, Alphy.” J’mhazi squeezes the boy’s hand over the gauntlet.

Out of the corner of his eye J’mhazi sees Aymeric falter, wincing, and Lucia’s alarmed exclamation that follows. Aymeric holds himself up at the war table, waving her off. J’mhazi can’t tear his eyes away, and Aymeric eventually does look up to meet his watchful gaze and he straightens, though it’s clearly labored.

A breathless soldier slams through the front door, interrupting the tense quiet they’d fallen into. J’mhazi watches as he runs forward.

“Lord Commander - an armed mob has seized control of The Vault!”

Aymeric’s face falls grave as he regards the man. “Speak. I would have your full report.”

The soldier nods, and begins.

An organization naming themselves the ‘True Brothers of the Faith’ have seized control of The Vault and all the civilians seeking shelter within. An armed detail detained and entrapped all within, surprising the guard stationed there. Leaving the one to deliver the demands.

...Their demands are simple - a conclave to select the next Archbishop and Aymeric’s surrender to the Fury’s judgment; for the crime of patricide and high treason.

J’mhazi immediately stands to his feet, bristling. 

A few other mouths open, a dozen other things bursting to be said. Outrage, stunned anger. Aymeric is prepared to meet them all.

J’mhazi steps forward instead.

“If they are looking for the individual guilty of slaying the Archbishop...” J’mhazi says, voice uncharacteristically toneless. “ _I would gladly present myself to them._ ” His eyes flash dangerously.

“That won’t be necessary,” Aymeric says firmly, direct, a frown marring his delicate features, “but I would see the hostages freed first and foremost. This is not to be Ishgard’s way. Certainly not if we are to have any future at all - Lucia,” he pulls his gaze away from J’mhazi and to his First Commander, “have a contingent of our knights surround the Vault and we’ll begin our preparations.”

“At once, Lord Commander.”

“Hilda-“ Aymeric turns, again, “I need your people out in the Brume doing what they can to prevent fear from gripping those remaining once word spreads. I would not give these ‘Brothers’ more targets to claim.” Hilda nods.

Aymeric turns then, to the Scions gathered. “Alphinaud… M- J’mhazi…” 

“You need not ask. My sword is yours.” J’mhazi says, nodding.

“Of course you have our support.” Alphinaud adds.

“I shall join you as well, Lord Commander!” Artoirel steps forward. J’mhazi watches his father hide the smallest of frowns, his mouth turning downward, behind a carefully placed mask of neutrality.

“To arms then.” 

In the commotion of busying with preparations, Handeloup catches J’mhazi’s attention and beckons him over.

“Though the safety of the hostages is of paramount concern,” he says, hesitant, “I would ask that you do your utmost to dissuade him from engaging in any...heroics.”

“You have my word, Handeloup, I’ll be watching over him.” J’mhazi says.

He smiles, genuinely relieved, and bids J’mhazi farewell.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i should have called this 'oops i wrote over 10k words and thought that made sense for a chapter so please take this instead'
> 
> There were beats i wanted to get to and a very specific thing i wanted to do lmao, if you made it this far, thank you for reading <3 humbled and awed that people still checkin this out.


	5. A Promise; A Favor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _...She talks absently for a time about the bustle - the people come from malms around, herself included, to see even just a chance at peace. He smiles at that._
> 
> _J’mhazi tips the mug back, taking a drink. It’s far too sweet, but to her credit, it is warm._
> 
> _The barmaid mentions her husband, dead at the hands of the Dravanians, and something about her tone changes. It falls cold, flat._
> 
> _Suddenly he’s far too warm behind the neck, and the room’s gone far too quiet. J’mhazi’s mouth dries up completely as he looks at the drink on the table._
> 
> _“Haven’t you done enough?” He hears her say, distantly. “I reckon you’ve earned a nice long rest.”_
> 
> _J’mhazi gapes at her, understanding dawning, useless hands grasping for purchase on the table as he falls from his chair, limbs gone limp and heavy._
> 
> _“Sleep now, sleep.” She says, almost cruelly. “This was never your fight.”_
> 
> _He closes his eyes._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quicker update this time because uh, the last two used to be one large chapter lmao. Apologies for any jank or errors, it's unbeta'd because i am a garbage can of shame.
> 
> Slight warnings for some vomiting-related talk in this one (about halfway through) very very mild eye trauma (shortly after that), and a short nsfw scene near the end. 
> 
> The attention on this continues to humble and startle me haha, please enjoy. I am looking forward to putting together the next chapter that i have plotted, and hopefully won't have to also split in two, haha.

* * *

The Vault itself is still an imposing building, made more so by the knowledge of what lies in wait for them within the basilica.  
  
J’mhazi stares at it, transfixed.

He grips himself tightly at the elbows, not noticing Alphinaud sliding in front of him. 

“Are you alright, my friend?”

“Yes.” J’mhazi says, not tearing his eyes from the rooftop. “...No. Not really.” He pats Alphinaud on the head affectionately before pulling him closer by the back of the neck, leaning in to rest his forehead against the other’s.

“J’mhazi-!” The boy stutters, caught off guard.

“Sorry.” J’mhazi mumbles. He rights himself quickly enough. “M’just worried. Please take care of yourself in there.” Alphinaud nods slowly, but firmly. J’mhazi’s eyes glance off him and towards Aymeric, then back. “Are you ready? I think we’re prepared to start.” Another nod and Alphinaud tucks his tome under his arm. 

The Lord Commander himself waits, their small rescue team set and holding at the back of The Vault, waiting for his order. He turns at J’mhazi’s presence at his side.

Glancing quickly around, they steal a moment together; warm hands clasped and eyes shining before pulling back to a respectable distance.

“Can I ask you to make me a promise?” J’mhazi says, reaching forward again and holding Aymeric’s arm at the side. 

Aymeric looks down, eyes flitting away, then back to him. “If it is something I can promise, I will.”

“You don’t have anything to prove here - so please, _please,_ don’t do anything reckless.” J’mhazi says, strained. “You’re injured, I needn’t remind you, so if I tell you to go I want you to _promise_ me that you will.”

“Mhazi, I-“

“ _Promise me_.” J’mhazi says again, voice quaking.

Aymeric nods.

“I need you to say it.” J’mhazi shuts his eyes.

“If I can afford the retreat, if we’ve saved those that need saving, I swear to you I will.” Aymeric says softly. A concession. J’mhazi drops his hand from where it gripped his arm.

It has to be enough.

* * *

Their stealth afforded them a head start, allowing them to free the bulk of the hostages before meeting much resistance at all. A few knights stay behind to guard the retreat, and the rest press inward. A quick look shows the militants have split their forces between a few locations surrounding the dais in the middle of the ground floor. 

Their small group presses inwards, following not a dissimilar route that was taken the last time J’mhazi stormed in here. The thought makes him ill. The wrought iron gratings are still present from before.

The first encounter they have is over quickly - Y’shtola remains to attend to the hostage left unconscious. Artoirel can’t quite stop an alarmed shout from ringing out from one of their targets as he flees at the sight of them, so they give chase. Alphinaud and Thancred remain to attend to those captured.

Aymeric turns, a shout of his own leaving his lips as he spies the man responsible on the dais:

“Fan out and find the rest of them, _now_.” He takes the stairs two at a time to engage.

For a moment, J’mhazi is frozen solid. Sounds dull as if through molasses. 

He feels a hand on his arm. J’mhazi pulls his eyes away from the dais and the stairs. Artoirel.

Everything moves again and clicks into place. J’mhazi takes off in a sprint towards the east wing and the other hostages, Artoirel close behind him.

He offers the first few extremists a chance at surrender. The third time a supposed man of the cloth holds a knife at the throat of an innocent is when his control starts to slip.

He makes it very clear to the rest that he isn’t there for the hostages; he’s there for blood.

By the time they’ve found a sixth hostage there isn’t any resistance left and J’mhazi sprints back to reach Aymeric, leaving the others to handle the extraction. As he’s nearing, he feels a rush of aether wash over him; a hand on his back, cuts and bruises mending.

Artoirel looks at him, concerned, but he holds his tongue and follows after him wordlessly.

Taking the steps as fast as he can, J’mhazi hurls himself over the top at one of the men caging Aymeric in. Arcing over and down, he slams his great sword into the floor and lets out shout, knocking at least three men aside, rending their armor. 

J’mhazi picks himself up off the floor and throws himself forward again, feeding his Darkside.

_More, again._

Curling over his greatsword in a controlled tumble he ends a man’s life before he can so much as open his mouth to scream.

He bowls into the last man standing just as he’s set his sights on Aymeric, and knocks the attacker to the ground. He stabs downward, once, and a trail of red is drawn out of the body, a fading line connecting the two of them. J’mhazi looks for their white-robed leader and doesn’t see him - the Dark Knight’s head whips around, frustrated.

Aymeric sags, his left arm falling to cradle his abdomen.

J’mhazi registers _that_ movement and finally stops, breathing hard. It sounds harsh and ragged in the echoing emptiness of the basilica. The silence between the three remaining is tense while they get their bearings, and it's broken when they’re joined by Y’shtola.

A missing child. Stolen away to the rooftops.

Aymeric takes off before J’mhazi can stop him, so he follows.

* * *

First the girl is falling, a terrible small scream fading as she vanishes from sight.

Then the powerful beat of white wings announces Vidofnir’s arrival - and then she has her, safe.

Whatever may happen from here, the image of a young girl falling from the Vault’s roof, only to be saved on dragonsback will be seared into J’mhazi’s memory for the rest of his life.  
  


Aymeric grabs J’mhazi’s wrist to stay his hand, snapping his attention away from the worm who _threw a child off a building_ ; he lowers his sword...but keeps it at the ready. Hoping his gaze can kill the man where he stands instead.

The rest of the day is a blur, after that. 

J’mhazi hears the word ‘rest’ and thinks that a very good idea indeed. 

* * *

F'lhaminn’s cutting words fresh in his mind, J’mhazi turns away from his friends and pushes into the Antitower, alone.

* * *

He makes it, battered and beaten, to what he assumes is a door to the aetherial sea. He presses his hand to it and it fair _pulses_ with warm light.

_Hear, Feel, Think..._

J’mhazi opens his eyes, and it’s the Crystal - bright, resplendent...and it’s _her, too._ He reaches out to Minfillia, but part of him already knows what’s happened and what she’s going to say. 

They speak for bells. They only have moments.

And then he’s on his back in the Antitower, alone.

* * *

“Thancred, wait- No...No, this is all wrong.” Alphinaud’s voice cracks, just a bit, at the sight of the rogue’s retreating back. He covers his face with a hand and turns away.

J’mhazi looks down, unable to offer anything else. What could he say? It was another promise he failed to see through. 

_For those we have lost... for those we can yet save._

  
  
It’s Matoya who walks over to him, speaking quietly. “'Tis a blessed few who get to choose how and when and for what they die... Not that you need reminding, I suppose.” She looks at J’mhazi, contemplating.

“But that boy…” Matoya sighs, deeply. “For all the suffering he has known, he still clings to the notion that there is a cosmic justice, a morality by which we are saved or condemned. And there isn't.” 

“We all do - cling to that, I mean.” J’mhazi finds his voice is unsteady as well. “Maybe you’ve moved well beyond the need to believe that the actions you take deserve a just or fair reward, but it’s hard to keep going imagining that…after doing everything _right_ , you’re still punished for simply living.” He swallows roughly. “I’m by and far not a saint but... all I wanted was for them to be happy again.” 

Matoya frowns.

“I mean no offense, Master Matoya. Thank you for your candor, and your help as always.” 

J’mhazi walks over to Alphinaud, tossing an arm over his shoulders and leads him out of the cave.

* * *

_“It weighs on you too, I know. I understand why she made her decision, and yet... Every time we lose another friend, I have to ask myself if there was not another way…”_

* * *

Back at the Manor Foretemps, back home, he goes through the motions of drawing a bath without thinking, tossing his clothes aside, making sure the fire is stoked in his room. Everything is set up and ready for the evening, the way he likes it. Comfortable.

He slides in to the hot water and scrubs his hair roughly, soothed, until he’s struck stupid by a memory...

Estinien, bristling with armor, drawing him out of his exhaustion-fueled lapse in consciousness in the bath like a hazy dream. The measured press of his gauntlets on heated skin.

The memory draws him back further, still.

Watching Estinien call out to Nidhogg’s power, feeling the wyrm himself answer as he slipped away without a trace after their duel in Coerthas. Feeling the rush of energy as the Eye responded to him for the first time, linking the two of them together inexorably.

He feels Nidhogg’s gaze faintly, even now. A predator at his back, not content with just one prize.

J’mhazi plunges his head into the water and holds it there until he feels his lungs start to burn, willing himself not to scream.

* * *

Half freezing, hastily dressed with wet hair, he makes for the _Congregation of Knights Most Heavenly,_ recalling with distinct clarity at least that Aymeric had work for him to do and had need of him to do it.

J’mhazi’s growing familiarity with Aymeric’s knights makes it easy for him to pass through unbothered. Though it’s later in the evening, he can still see the light spilling out from under the door to his office. He knocks twice before opening the door.

“Mhazi, to what do I owe the pleasure of a brief reprieve in my work.” Aymeric says with a small smile, not glancing up from his papers. 

J’mhazi pauses, mentally cursing himself for the request he was about to lead with. “Ah, work... I suppose. Your missive to Alphinaud mentioned something about an event you wanted me to attend to?” Aymeric looks up and J’mhazi curses himself again, knowing he was unable to layer on anything but a frown, wet hair still plastered to his face.

“There was no rush… but I see now maybe there was for you. Are you alright?” Aymeric asks, eyeing him as he puts his quill away.

Suddenly feeling foolish, and very small, J’mhazi fumbles for a coherent excuse. Any excuse.

“No, I-” He clears his throat. “This was inconsiderate of me, it can wait until the morning.” 

Aymeric sighs as J’mhazi turns to leave.

“You left rather quickly after the rescue at the Vault.” He calls out over the distance. “I was worried.” J’mhazi removes his hand from the door to the chamber as if shocked.

“We both needed to recover, you most of all.” J’mhazi says, turning back. “Everyone was so happy. I didn’t want to… I wasn’t feeling like myself.” 

“Are you _worried_ about what I think of how you acted - the lives you took in defense of innocent ones - in _my defense_?”

“ _Yes._ ” J’mhazi breathes, stepping closer to the desk. “But more than that, I’m worried about how I don't actually care _,_ at all. That I’d do it again.” 

Aymeric waits. When the other man doesn’t offer anything else, wringing his hands as he is, Aymeric tries prompting him again, gently. “...There’s something more?”

“We’ve lost someone else now, too.” J’mhazi smiles, but it’s a twisted, hollow thing. “Another person I can’t possibly make it up to. I’m here, and she’s not.” 

“I’m sorry, Mhazi. She must have been important to you.” Aymeric’s hand twitches on the desk, but he doesn’t stir beyond that, waiting.

“She was. To all of us.” He mumbles, finally walking over, conceding to the real reason he was there. He brushes the knuckles of his hand across Aymeric’s on the desk. “How did you know it was me at the door?”

“Lucia is away at Falcon’s Nest, preparing, and my people here know that you’re the only person I’d permit in at this hour.” He looks up at J’mhazi, uncertain.

That he could be so lucky, and so _inconsiderate_. The thought makes J’mhazi’s heart _ache._

“I’m sorry, darling.” He says quietly, threading their fingers together. Aymeric tugs him forward with his captured hand until J’mhazi relents and shuffles towards where he’s led.

“Will you sit with me awhile?” Aymeric asks softly, looking up.

“Of course.” The quiet reply.

Aymeric, still seated, pulls J’mhazi to him gently until he’s sitting across his lap. He flushes lightly and presses his face into Aymeric’s neck. 

Arms circle his waist and hold him tighter.

“I do love you, _every part_ of you, and I’m not afraid.” Aymeric whispers.

“And I you, darling, but you know that _I am_.” J’mhazi squeezes the hand clasped in his.

* * *

Aymeric, attentive and awake at their _proper_ meeting in the morning, had convinced him that he should be in attendance, that he should be part of Ishgard’s attempt at a peace conference. If not just for his role as the Warrior of Light - the Defender - but also as a symbol.

J’mhazi scoffs inwardly. While he didn’t agree with the latter, he would be there to guard against any potential incursions from Nidhogg’s cohort, at least. 

Aymeric was right to seize the opportunity that Vidofnir’s timely appearance represented of course - it made up for a lot of the ill will that the _True Brothers_ facilitated and the timing was right.

J’mhazi was still nervous. Aymeric was _still_ recovering; that he faltered during their meeting was enough to send J’mhazi into a panic. But, here he was. Trust and faith; he was trying to be better.

Finding Lucia after they landed in Falcon’s Nest proved easy. The First Commander cuts an imposing figure watching over the bustling proceedings. Following her eyes, he stares up at a covered stone relief.

“To be revealed at the conference.” She offers. “An enduring symbol of peace for long after the conference is concluded. His faith is infectious, is it not?” J’mhazi nods without turning away and they stand in companionable silence for a time.

“Forgive me, you must be tired from your journey, you and Master Thancred, please - don’t let me keep you.”

* * *

Of course, nothing remains simple, and Artoirel and Lucia leave quickly to try and quell the unrest brewing among the Convictors.

Please watch my brother, Artoirel says, in so many words. So J’mhazi attends to him - Thancred too. 

Wolves, patrols, heretics coming in peace? 

Perhaps it’s not all for naught, J’mhazi thinks quietly to himself. Though Emmanelain is acting strangely, task after task found and handled, the day seems to be progressing smoothly. J’mhazi mentions it to Thancred before they return to Falcon’s Nest with their new charges in tow.

With their tasks complete, and Emmanellain’s watch revealing no other concerns, all that’s left to do is wait for Lucia and Artoirel. Something prickles on the back of J’mhazi’s neck and he whips his head around, finding nothing.

He paces, idly, for a time.

“The first floor of the barracks over there has been converted into a tavern, why don’t you go and have something to eat?” Emmanellain suggests, eying the way J’mhazi keeps pacing.

“I dare say that’s an actually good suggestion. Come, I’ll join you anon. Just after I finish up here.” Thancred says, rolling his eyes in Emmanellain’s direction.

J’mhazi nods and makes his way over to the heavy doors.

* * *

The small makeshift tavern was packed to the brim with a variety of unknown faces and J’mhazi almost turned around to leave before being greeted and led to a small table at the back by a bright and happy young woman. 

The tavern was passable, if a little cramped, so he allowed himself to be seated, alone. Tucked away in a small corner. Preferable to being out in the middle where he might be pestered by well-meaning but nosy onlookers.

No food, she says, but a drink on the house to keep the chill away. 

She talks absently for a time about the bustle - the people come from malms around, herself included, to see even just a chance at peace. He smiles at that.

J’mhazi tips the mug back, taking a drink. It’s far too sweet, but to her credit, it is warm.

The barmaid mentions her husband, dead at the hands of the Dravanians, and something about her tone changes. It falls cold, flat.

Suddenly _he’s_ far too warm behind the neck, and the room’s gone far too quiet. J’mhazi’s mouth dries up completely as he looks at the drink on the table.

“Haven’t you done enough?” He hears her say, distantly. “I reckon you’ve _earned_ a nice long rest.” 

J’mhazi gapes at her, understanding dawning, useless hands grasping for purchase on the table as he falls from his chair, limbs gone limp and heavy.

“Sleep now, sleep.” She says, almost cruelly. “ _This was never your fight_.”

He closes his eyes.

* * *

J’mhazi stands at odds, set apart, in front of a figure with piercing golden eyes, the rest of them obscured in shadow. They take a casual, slow step towards him.

**_You fool, you bloody naive fool..._ **

He can’t speak, voice stolen from him, and he grabs at his throat. 

**_Aren’t you tired...?_ **

He desperately shakes his head, the silence around them both deafening. The shock of aether he feels when they touch his face sets his eyes open wide.

**_You need only ask; I will be here._** **_It was not a hollow promise._**

Then there’s pain - in his gut, at his temple, and he crumples to his knees in front of the figure. A soundless scream wrenching his mouth open. Images of the past, brief flashes of grief, tombstones covered in snow, the pain and longing of lost love stolen too soon; it crashes into him, overtaking his senses. J’mhazi cradles his head in his hands as he kneels.

**_I would bear that burden for you, gladly. I would... I would._ **

The figure, his shadow, kneels in front of him. 

**_But I will not take that which isn’t freely given. And you made a choice, didn’t you?_ **

Gasping, J’mhazi tries again, to speak. To scream.

This time he lets it out.

* * *

He wakes in darkness.

Startled, completely disoriented, _afraid_ \- J’mhazi sits up and immediately tries to stand, managing to get a few ilms before a bout of nausea brings him to his knees, retching.

Cold, alone, and dry heaving on a stone floor, he begins to panic. Dragging his hands across the edges of the stones in the floor, he can hear footsteps from somewhere nearby but his vision is still only in dull, muted shapes. He presses his eyes shut.

“Get back, s-stay-“ J’mhazi tries to shout, his voice hoarse and sounding foreign in his ears. “Stay the hell away from me.” 

“It’s alright, it’s me,” he can hear the footsteps now, slow, and can even tell how they are _purposefully_ heavy. Heel to toe. 

Voice and gait; Thancred; “Let’s get you up.” 

“What happened...Thancred - I don’t know what I drank, I- _ugh_ “ another wave of nausea hits him and he presses both palms flat to the stone floor, trying to keep the room from spinning, before he collapses onto the floor completely.

* * *

J’mhazi wakes again to a dim light; he blinks against the strain of it.

His head _pounds._

He’s in a bed again, can feel the edge of it with his palm, and he crushes the seam of the blanket between his fingers.

“Feeling better?” Thancred says from the doorway. “You seemed to have napped through our very own crisis.”

J’mhazi huffs out a breath and half-rises to a sitting position, wavering.

“Hey, hey, easy-“ Thancred starts, moving over quickly and grabbing a glass of water from the table, offering it. “Try drinking this.” 

J’mhazi eyes it warily, his stomach turning.

Thancred takes a look at his friend then back to the pitcher, then the glass. 

“Ah, of course.” He says before draining the cup himself and pouring again from the pitcher. He waits with J’mhazi as he breathes and waits for his body to settle. He accepts the cup with unsure hands and brings it slowly to his lips, sipping lightly.

The silence is interrupted only by the sounds of J’mhazi trying to drink. Halfway through, he curses and slams the glass down on the side table, folding himself over the bed to heave out the water he just ingested into a waiting bowl on the floor.

“Smart.” J’mhazi says weakly, gesturing to the bowl, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

“I won’t do you the disservice of asking how you feel...but it might do some good to check in with Lucia and Artoirel if you can stand. Maybe get you back to Ishgard for care, or rest.” Thancred offers his hand, then his arm when the hand isn’t quite enough, and helps J’mhazi to his feet.

“...That woman, she bade me to sleep... this can’t have been what she was intending.” J’mhazi says clinging to Thancred’s arm as they make their way out of the makeshift infirmary.

“We can’t be sure - a number of them did attack the knights when cornered, so who knows what she was after with you. We won’t know until she wakes up.”

“Wakes up?”

“There’s been a number of developments since you were dosed, I’m afraid.”

J’mhazi thinks ruefully on why in the hell he ever accepted a drink from an opened bottle in the first place, anyways - his stomach churning with bile to add insult.

* * *

Tallying the number of injured, including himself and Honoroit, leaves them in the dozens. 

Lucia meets with him outside the infirmary.

“Master J’mhazi! ‘Tis good to see you up.” She says. He nods carefully in acknowledgement, leaning against the doorframe with an arm. Her face falls slightly upon getting a closer look at his own, but she presses on.

“I’m not sure what Master Thancred has told you, but things did not proceed as planned.” 

“He mentioned.” J’mhazi says, voice hoarse. “What’s the damage?”

“A group of angry civilians tried to seize control of the proceedings in protest, and it culminated in my dear brother ordering a soldier to shoot the woman giving an impassioned speech against peace with the Dravanians.” Artoirel steps in. “It’s a right mess.”

“Needless to say,” Lucia continues, “it was a failure. I will bear full responsibility for this, including the attack on your person. I find myself at a loss of how to explain this to the Lord Commander-“ J’mhazi shakes his head, even though the motion almost makes him ill once more.

“The Dravanians killed her husband.” J’mhazi coughs. “The woman who poisoned me, the one I assume had a hand in organizing this - she’s angry, _furious_. Like every one left behind, she carries that hatred like a weapon and she’ll...use it to hurt anyone and everyone, refusing to see peace as an option. Like Nidhogg, like...Estinien did.” He looks down at his feet, pushing off from his lean.

“Excuse me.” He adds quietly, turning and shuffling towards the steps to the airship landing.

* * *

The breeze on the airship did wonders to keep the lingering nausea at bay.

J’mhazi was sure he must still look awful, as Thancred was still avoiding looking at his face. Ragged as he was, and uncomfortable as he was sure the conversation would be, he did have a report to make to Aymeric.

He made his way, with a small amount of Thancred’s help, to the Congregation.

* * *

The deep frown on Edmont’s face and sharp intake of breath from Aymeric told J’mhazi all he needed to know about his state.

“Apologies,” he said, voice still sounding rough, “we came straight here from Falcon’s Nest.”

“The city is already alight with rumors of what happened... but we’d hear it straight from you, as rumors tend to be far more fanciful. I’d like to believe my youngest of better judgment.” Edmont murmurs, watching as J’mhazi takes a seat off and to the side. 

“Well, Thancred, I think this one’s yours. I’m afraid I was indisposed at the time.” J’mhazi shuts his eyes and takes a steadying breath.

Thancred recounts for them the tense situation at Falcon’s Nest. The planning, the coordinated efforts to draw Artoirel and Lucia away, to keep the both of them busy, the impassioned speech cut short by an arrow. 

Edmont sighs and looks down.

“So that’s the truth of it then.” Edmont says. “My son’s foolishness.”

Aymeric looks over at J’mhazi. “What, pray tell, happened to you?”

“Poisoned.” He huffs.

Aymeric stammers for a moment. “I-I see.” 

“I’m alright, Aymeric. Just a bit out of sorts.”

“To his credit, you look wrecked.” Thancred offers.

J’mhazi shoots him a glare, withering, with his one terribly bloodshot eye.

* * *

Once smoothed over, J’mhazi half listens while Aymeric details his plans for a joint military bout - a grand melee - used as a patriotic demonstration to bring unity in the face of such ... division. 

Edmont and Aymeric discuss designs for Emmanellain, and J’mhazi volunteers to find him as soon as he’s able.

“Please send my instructions along to Lucia, as well, I trust that she’ll coordinate with Hilda for the Melee.” Aymeric says. “And… do return here when you find Emmanellain.” He puts on a brave smile but J’mhazi can tell he’s concerned, so he tries to return the smile with his own despite the splitting headache that had begun forming behind his eyes.

* * *

J’mhazi spots Lucia, recently arrived, in the commons of the Congregation and catches her up. Thancred offers to take instructions to Hilda in the Brume, and Lucia sends along her picks. The plan falls into place. 

Lucia presses a tonic into J’mhazi’s hands before he can depart and turns away before he can protest. He stands there holding it in his hands, tracing his finger around the stopper and wax seal, before he finally makes his way out into the street.

* * *

Sipping on the bitter herbal draught as he walks, J’mhazi does start to feel better as his head clears.

Finding Emmanelain was not as difficult as it would have seemed initially; perhaps he was hiding from his father after all.

J’mhazi sneaks up on him in the Jeweled Croizier. He turns, startled, but does not flee.

“Your father volunteered you as support in the Grand Melee, Emm. I suggest you go and _talk to him.”_ J’mhazi says, punctuated by another sip of what he now assumes is a health tonic. 

“Another decision made for me, I suppose.” Emmanellain gripes, frustration evident. J’mhazi raises an eyebrow. “Oh but you wouldn’t understand, would you?” Emmanelain shrugs in his direction. “You’re a man who is free to be whatever you want to be - whereas I, I am of house Foretemps and my path was decided long before I was born...” The Elezen looks fit to spin into dramatics. J’mhazi holds up a hand.

“I am going to stop you right there.” J’mhazi near spits, bitterness clouding his voice. “Before you say something that truly makes me angry.” Emmanelain looks taken aback and pauses.

“When I fled Ala Ghiri...got on a fucking boat to Limsa to - I don’t know, start fresh - I walked face first into something completely outside of my control. What am I even doing here? Was I chosen? Did I get a choice?” He gestures wildly around the Croisier. “I’m not free, Emm, I haven’t been for quite some time.”

The younger Foretemps looks away, ashamed.

“Of course. My apologies. I Imagine the mantle of ‘hero’ weighs heavy on you. What I mean to say-“ he tries again, “what I meant to say, is that everyone around me rises to the occasion to do what’s good and right when it’s expected of them, and I always fall short.” He sighs, “Looking for someone to tell me what to do, so I can blame them when my own shortcomings are made apparent.”

J’mhazi places a hand on his hip, and waits.

“There is only me to blame for what happened. Your friend made that abundantly clear. I will decide.” He says, clipped and uncharacteristically dry.

“Good.” J’mhazi snaps, finishing his tonic with a grimace.

* * *

Emmanelain did choose to take part, and Aymeric accepted his offer graciously. Surrounded by men of this caliber, J’mhazi hopes that one day he’ll stop dicking around and grow into his responsibilities, but he’s learning, at least.

J’mhazi snaps to attention at the change in tone in Aymeric’s voice. His excitement is palpable.

“I will, of course, lead our Knights into battle. Hilda will bring the full strength of her Hounds. Emmanellain of House Foretemps has volunteered to join us.” Aymeric looks towards J’mhazi, hesitant. “If you would oblige me, I would ask that you join us as well, under Ishgard’s banner. Knowing full well your allegiances and responsibilities - and any lingering injuries - I would understand if you needed to refuse.” He takes a moment, seeming to steel himself.

“You are a man without equal, and there is no one else I would rather have fighting by my side.”  
  


The man was always breathtaking, but J’mhazi found himself struck almost speechless when those piercing blue eyes trained on him, with that particular brand of hope and determination colouring his every word.

“Of course, Lord Commander.” J’mhazi bows his head to hide the flush that was threatening to rise. “I would be proud to fight under Ishgard’s banner.”

Aymeric lets out a small breath in relief and the smile that breaks his face is radiant.

“Together, we shall give the people a spectacle for the ages─a celebration to mark the dawning of a new era for Ishgard.”

His eyes soften as he turns away, and J’mhazi can’t help but stare.

* * *

Stepping out of the lift, J’mhazi finds the Congregation mostly empty, save for Thancred, who had left ahead of him, and Lucia. She smiles warmly as he meets her gaze.

“...Gods help me, I think it might be love.” Thancred says as J’mhazi walks over, a sly smile growing on his face. 

“ _Fuck off_ , Thancred.” J’mhazi scoffs, with little heat.

“I’m serious, I’ve never seen a politician wear their heart so openly. It could make a man pledge his loyalty in an instant.” He pauses. “It also might be tilting the scales in their favor, but I won’t hold it against you.”

J’mhazi lets himself smile, turning to face his friend fully. “Listen, I… about what happened with Minf-”

“ _Stop_. I’m happy for you. Let it just be that.” Thancred says as his face softens, patting his friend’s arm, before his eyes drift over to the lift once more as it whirs to life. The Lord Commander steps out a moment later and Thancred smiles knowingly. 

“I’ll see you at the Melee, J’mhazi. Rest up, you look awful.”

J’mhazi chuckles as Thancred departs. He hears the clink of Aymeric’s boots behind him, and a hand low at his back.

“Mhazi…” Aymeric breathes in a rush over his ear. “The Melee... it is scheduled in two day’s time, I was hoping you would be amenable to-“

“Yes.” J’mhazi says quietly, hurried. “Please.”

* * *

Borel Manor was as warm and inviting as it was last time, perhaps even more so.

J’mhazi was sent ahead with a sealed instructional for his staff that he itched to open, but he could be patient. He trusted Aymeric, even if a tiny voice he did his best to crush warned him to do otherwise.

Upon his arrival, upon _seeing_ him, Mistress Alanna almost drops her dish in fright. She recovers quickly, a scold ready on her tongue.

“It can’t still be that bad, can it?” J’mhazi asks, sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“You’d best get yourself to a mirror, Ser.” She says, regaining her composure and taking the sealed missive from him, shooing him further into the manor and out of her hair.

* * *

Half-stripped and regarding himself in the mirror in the master suite, J’mhazi frowns. 

His bright eyes were marred with burst capillaries - his blue iris almost completely surrounded in crimson. His normally warm complexion still pallid, dark circles hanging low on his face.

He’s interrupted by a knock at the door.

Answering it, he’s greeted by another member of Aymeric’s staff, though one he’s not familiar with. He hands him a tray.

“Master Aymeric bade us prepare this for you, Ser.” He says, harsh but polite.

“Ah, thank you...really.” J’mhazi peers down, taking the tray, and taps the door shut with his foot. Some thin soup, breads, and what looks like two other bottled draughts. Setting those aside, he digs into the soup.

Easy on the stomach proved to be a very smart idea, and even then, J’mhazi had to take it slowly. He was still struck with the chilling thought halfway through the meal that he could be eating something unsafe.

But if he wasn’t safe here, then neither was Aymeric. His stomach turned unhelpfully at that and he put the rest of the meal aside. 

Waiting gave way to fidgeting, which gave way to J’mhazi giving up and nodding off on the settee in one of Aymeric’s shirts.

* * *

Footsteps, even and not masked.

J’mhazi turns towards the sound even before his mind registers it, his eyes blinking open.

“I did hope you would have made it through more of a meal - are you feeling better?” Aymeric asks, adjusting J’mhazi’s legs aside as he joins him, “you did look somewhat like a Dravanian horde had spat you out.” 

“I felt it.” J’mhazi groused. “I did take the potion that Lucia handed off to me earlier so I am _feeling_ mostly fine.”

Aymeric hums in contemplation.

“Would you let me heal you, were it something I could do?” He says, on the edge of hesitation.

“Darling, I’m alright, really.” J’mhazi says in protest, leaning forward on the lounge seat.

“But you could be better,” the reply, “would you humor me?” 

“I-“ he looks at Aymeric; the first mistake. The soft expression of concern on the man’s face makes it impossible to say anything but: “Yes, of course. I’d want to do the same were I further along in my studies with the Arcanist’s Guild.”

Aymeric smiles softly. “Come here, lie down.”

J’mhazi slides himself over from where he sat to circle an arm around Aymeric’s waist, leaning back onto his lap.

The touch is gentle; Aymeric tilts J’mhazi’s face up only slightly before laying a hand on his forehead. The other rests on his chest. A whispered prayer, coming out more an exhale than anything else, and then a shock of aether shared between them.

“Let me see your eyes, Mhazi.” Aymeric murmurs. When had he closed them?

Forcing open his eyelids through the muted, heady feeling - J’mhazi lets out a breath.

“There you are,” ice blue eyes watching him carefully. He shivers. “How do you feel?”

“Better.” J’mhazi whispers, stumbling over the word, the pain he had begun tuning out finally disappearing. Aymeric’s hands move to help him upright and he sags against Aymeric’s chest on the change in position. “... but I seem to find myself completely spent.”

“An early night then.” Aymeric says. He rises, dragging J’mhazi with him to his feet.

The walk to the bedroom was much more difficult than it would normally be on what felt like leaden feet.

Aymeric collected the two bottles from the tray and followed suit. Already fumbling with his belt and fastenings, J’mhazi turns a sleepy eye towards the bottles. “Whasat for, anyways-”

“An overabundance of precaution.” Aymeric says, passing the one with a bluish tinge over. He drains half the other, orange in colour, before setting it down off to the side. J’mhazi sets down his bottle at the side table.

“Tell you what,” he says, carefully, “if I don’t feel perfect tomorrow morning, I promise I’ll drink that - whatever it is.” He hears Aymeric sigh as he flops onto the bed, kicking his way out of his trousers. 

J’mhazi reaches his hand out towards the man he loves. 

“What I need, right now, is to sleep. Join me?”

Hard to refuse an offer like that. Aymeric relieves himself of his clothing and follows. J’mhazi is asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow, offering Aymeric the rare sight of his face, gone slack and peaceful. Breathing soft and even. Aymeric counts the freckles dusting J’mhazi’s cheeks and nose before he too is lulled under.

* * *

Kissed awake mid-morning, Aymeric begs forgiveness for leaving to attend to preparations for the Melee.

...The thrill of anticipation brings them together again that evening at the Seat of the Lord Commander...

Frenzied and quick - J’mhazi claws at the desk he’s folded over, panting, as Aymeric’s thrusting grows erratic and _rougher._

J’mhazi tenses, moaning, as Aymeric drags his lips across the back of J’mhazi’s neck; he brings his mouth down again, open with the barest hint of teeth. The tease of the bite makes J'mhazi shudder under him.

“ _More-_ ” J’mhazi gasps, open-mouthed against the desk. He tries to grind himself back into the feeling, squirming, but he’s held fast. Aymeric grabs on to the strappings of his armor and holds him down. 

“ _Harder, darling, please-_ ” his hand flexes uselessly on the desk, toes curling in his boots as Aymeric changes angles slightly. J’mhazi winds his tail around the other man’s waist as he sighs in pleasure.

Aymeric bites down, _hard_ , on the back of J’mhazi’s neck as he slams his hips forward. J’mhazi clenches tightly as he muffles a shout against his arm, his climax ripping through him. The tight clench pulls Aymeric along to his own end, and he buries his face against J’mhazi’s back with a groan.

Both of them breathing heavily, coming back to themselves, Aymeric mouths at, kisses the blooming red mark on J’mhazi’s neck apologetically. He slips out, tucking himself away, and barely has a moment before J’mhazi pushes back, turns, and is against him once more, growling, holding his own trousers up at the back before quickly re-tying them.

“ _Fuck. Yes_ .” He hisses against Aymeric’s lips, parting in surprise. “Gods, I’ve wanted to do that since I laid eyes on this _fucking desk_ -” Wrapping his arms around Aymeric’s neck, J’mhazi tugs him down further to meet, demanding, nipping at his bottom lip before kissing along to his jaw, nudging his head to the side. 

Aymeric obliges and J’mhazi briefly considers returning the favor, marking his lover’s neck for all to see, but he settles that fire to a quiet simmer and just takes a deep breath in, trying to surround himself with _his_ scent _._ Aymeric runs his hands through J’mhazi’s navy hair, damp with sweat, and it soothes the fire further.

Pulling apart with a breathy sigh, Aymeric leans in once more to lay a kiss on the heated skin of J’mhazi’s cheek. 

“Til tomorrow, then.” He says, eyes half open. “I’m loath to part from you, but I won’t get any rest if we remain together.” The small smile on Aymeric’s face turns impish.

“Tomorrow, love, we’re going to win you that melee.” J’mhazi says before kissing him again, eyes bright and chest still heaving.

* * *

Taking the stairs down at the Manor Foretemps with a decided spring in his step in the morning, the Zweihander Haurchfaunt had gifted him what feels like so long ago strapped to his back, J’mhazi is stopped in his tracks by Lord Edmont and Emmanellain in the foyer.

Their own preparations just about complete, father and son turn at the sound of the stairs.

Armor, the colors of House Foretemps, in his size, held out towards him.

J’mhazi takes the mail shirt first and holds it in his hands, staring. Eyes stinging with the strain of holding back tears.

“I’d be honored, Lord Edmont.” He manages to get out before he loses his voice completely, covering his face with the back of his hand.

“The honor is ours, J’mhazi, that you’d compete wearing our House colours.” Edmont’s warm smile takes over his face. “You have a knack for inspiring the people around you, and we’re glad to have you with us.” The hand that lands on his shoulder is warm and affirming. Familial.

Haurchefaunt had promised him safety at his father’s house - the protection offered a Ward of House Foretemps. They’d given him that and more. 

A home, a family. 

Echoing Lucia’s feelings; This wasn’t his fight but he’d made it his, and he would see it through.

Starting with making it through the morning with drier eyes, hopefully.

* * *

All in a rush the men around him, Aymeric and Lucia included, are knocked aside.

“Well met _Flame Sergeant.”_ Raubahn grins, and J’mhazi - for a brief moment - knows fear. 

“I will not lie─ _I was hoping it would come to this_ .” The thrill of excitement in his voice is unmistakable as Raubahn, no, _The Bull of Ala Mhigo_ rushes forward, fire in his eyes; circling, carving an arena of flame around just the two of them.

“So then... _shall we dance_?” 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure...this works well? But please take it, i've been fiddling with it for days and i need it to just. Go.
> 
> yall are the best, thank you for reading oTL
> 
> <3

**Author's Note:**

> What started in FFXIVWrite2020 as Aymeric/WoL ended in this spicy Ishgard Sandwich. Estinien is too powerful, ruined my brain, he has. 
> 
> You've made it to the bottom of the page! you're reading my extremely indulgent wolxnpc fic, and I love you.
> 
> If you're of the writing persuasion or generally just love reading final fantasy xiv fics, come and join usssss in the discorrrrrd:
> 
> [Emet-Selch's Wholesomely Debauched and Enabling Book Club](https://discord.gg/enabling-debauched-xivfic)
> 
> Can't overstate how lovely and supportive everyone is.
> 
> If you'd like to yell at me for my crimes, or... talk to me???? you can find me on twitter [@pitchbog](https://twitter.com/pitchbog)


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